Close Your Eyes

[Verse 3: Busdriver]
They pushed outdated policies like [?]
[?] alpha numerics
And look how I get treated, I know, how pathetic
When they build sphinxes in my name, make 'em hypoallergenic
And why you're at it, make yourself a cup of coffee
[?] butter toffee, turn a '90s Tamagotchi, feed your demagogue
Picture yourself in a Beverly Hills hotel eating a biscotti
Slowly becoming a minor celebrity disc jockey
After that, take a sec, relax a little, go put on your gray sweats
And simply, "Go fuck yourself!"
[?]
That's why I'm glaring at this casting call with a fist full of wisdom teeth
Slandering all figure-heads under a banner saying, "Mission complete, homie!"
Because of this my published works are microfiche
[?] vinyl crease got love birds bookin' bridal suites
And got my niggas engaging in homicidal streaks
'Cause my vocal outreach is the outcry of the sideshow freak
And they'll offend me more than a prayer could
I don't mistake goods with the greater good