Lost Arts Lyrics

I hear something
It's coming from below
I think you've become mad
Almost as if something is moving below us
Act a little peculiar, and- and you're an outsider
Perhaps you've always been mad

Uh-huh
We interrupt this program to bring you a broadcast from the Western Funk but now resurrecting lost arts
Don't you feel it?
Brigham

Revolution is knockin'
Resolution is knowledge
Get yo hand out my pocket
No weapon made can conquer my inner pain
I started my evolution of rhymin', persecuted, indicted
They instituted the violence that started my defiance
Give no respect or alliance
Less men get rich than ones who die tryin'
Less making commitments, dollars have no pious
Show you how to move in a den full of lions
If the dinner ain't cookin' you gotta know where to find it
Even if you paint pretty, you can't change the climate of my inner sanctum
Hard work is thankless, bold print the statement
I could show you somethin' that's suited for all ages
Back when I used to hide the heist in crawlspaces
All for the cause to blank slate ya faces
Sinister cemetery, real-life visionary, not preliminary
My kingdom is ruled by vikings
Why we can't have nice things
When that hunger rings watch as they resort to biting
Why I look crookedly, took from me everything
Off the rope and out the tree to Washington Booker T
Watch the way you talk to me because I speak awfully
Even when mocking me, you gotta do it awkwardly
Often dark thoughts be givin' me these allergies
When I sneeze, who's gonna bless me?
Counted one blessing and then it got depressing
Not down to get seen with your team, stop suggesting we
Make it our business to see and remain different
Same day, different dark feeling, black state of living
Counterfeits keep tryna hack my religion
Every night I pray "let all but the whack be forgiven"
Aye, my igna, you ain't nobody till they make a wax figure
Rap cinema, call the minister
What I administer is sinister
Pitiful, pivotal, criminal, lyrical prisoner
Remember the signature when I deliver the finisher
Born and risen with Menace miniatures
Dropped dead center in this sinners dilemma
Don't make fun of the surface, they just ain't used to the tremors
I keep it a sweet life, my pocket'o bitters
Makes my air a bit thinner, I'm what remains on the filter
You should be more considerate, pay your anguish a visit
Raided the village just to make the place more militant
Painted an image and I don't give a Braille who feelin' it
Nailed the sentiment while I'm out breaking my ligaments
Snatchin' ya block's citizens, I'm fillin' 'em with degenerates

Mad! Mad!
Seein' things, or not seein' it
I'm gettin' outta here!