Up The Middle

Yeah coming through from the 902
Pop the line it's buck 65
Full blown combinating with johnney rockwell and the Centaur
Double dipped
Yo, right about this time next year
Certain others digging up bones

[Verse 1]
Got flat chest and head like rats nest
Not to mention that I'm harder than a math test
Leave you lying face down naked from the waist down
After that I'll go back and burn your place down
I'll take cheese outta you handy snack
Then I'll call your granny back
Gotta a great big of cash in my fanny pack
A flat bus broken
The angel dust smoking
Man with hand cuffs on
Just joking I describe myself as half decent sax player
Amateur coin collecteor john q tax player
Shy around girls with my face all scarred
The only thing in my wallet is a baseball card
I live in the city but miss farming life
All i need to survive is my Swiss army knife
The story of my childhood is bad luck and crises
Born in the year of the rat and I'm a Picses
Which makes me a rat fish
So I'm gonna soon need someone to tie my shoes and spoon feed me
Can't wait till the day when i ride round in rocking cars
Wear short sleeve shirts and all I eat is chocolate bars
Take my place granted assume the position
On top of the heap because soon the tradition
Winning the game of one swinging the bat will forever will be a thing of the past

If I be myself I'll be by myself
But I don't wanna be remembered by the way I've been rendered
No I don't, no [Repeat]

[Verse 2]
They keep me couped up in this hot sweaty cage
With a worn out mattress and a poster of Betty Page
And supposed to write the great American love story
Why don't they sound trumpets and release flocks of doves for me
I've got to be particular about how my career is handled
Before I record I should go and get my ears candled
I'd like a glass of water and box of facial tissue
Doing what I do has never really been a racial issue
Someday soon though I'm gonna have to settle down
Before my bones start making that metal on metal sound
The difference between me and other people is the greased palms
I was never one to hold my breath when I released bombs
It's possible that i could be huge but i doubt it
My phone's off the hook but that's about it
Handling my biz I should really do a shipment
And try and make some money to buy some new equipment
With a brand new mike and a room with insulation
Coloured pencils all I need is inspiration
Which brings me back to this hot and sweaty cage
The worn out mattress and the poster of Betty Page
I look at people look at me, how am I supposed to feel?
Showing a picture that isn't even close to real
The final approach is upon me, I can feel it
I might call this song I was right all along

Or I might call this song I've never had stitches
Or I might call it Mr. Know-It-All
Or don't forget the chaos
Or two sizes too big
The hydro-twist
The scene river
Creative differences
No time to lose
Or
Beasts?
Pieces?