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letra de the philosopher's stoned - mike east

beating the odds so i don’t ever have to join ‘em at the hip. you’re battlin’ master ip with a chinese throwing asterisk
my sinuses are stuffed with cr-ss limericks, p-ss the vix
you dummies don’t know the half of this
a cheap junkie grease monkey, i specialize in crack ‘n whips. i’m rivaling pringles the way i’m stacking chips
winning!
clinching my p-ssive fists is a fastidious task to wrastle with, but silly rabbit, these are magic tricks
now, before you slash your wrists
i want you think of a phrase
or a word that defines what i’m doing compared to a human. the word that you’re thinking is crazy
absurd, or amazing
now think of a number, one through ten
and don’t stop, because thoughts are better than bullets when they run through heads
thumbscrews, deadbolts and chains
can’t keep me out of this game
cause i don’t flash finger pistols, nor am i rufus wain, right?
of course i’m right, but soon i’ll be the only one left
as if the world was set afire and i just held my breath
pelted death with live rock ‘til he touched himself and disappeared
found lady luck and i injected whispers in her ear
insisting that her inner fears were gone and she could take away the blanket
i saw that golden booty and i spanked it like it acted up in church
and mother nature heard the creakin’ sounds
pounded on the wall like “would you f-cking kids keep it down?!”
sorry ma, didn’t mean to make you cry like when mercury died, but songs immortalized, post-mortem careers are hercules-sized
i’m working these lines and burpin’ these rhymes and nurturing lives, so eat it up like birdseed if you’re hungry or thirsty
i’m movin’ symphonies like hershey’s
want s’more? you’re a mess. wipe your mouth on your shirtsleeves
i’m all over your face. put some aloe on those burnt knees
or everyone will know that you’re a tramp when you curtsy
i’m the boogieman you see in your worst dreams
and my lips would be on fire if it wasn’t for burt’s bees
the philosopher’s stoned, and the result is f-ckin’ alchemy. shocking like hanging baby blanket from a balcony
i’m bout to be bankin’ big bucks and breakin’ boundaries, corrodin’ the compet-tion, callin’ ‘em all cowardly
go get some courage; follow that golden path
i’m goin’ back to kansas, that man has nothing for stanzas cause my heart’s already too big, and there’s grey up in my cranium
and i can blow your mind like a brain operation in a hurricane, see i’m uranium
my brightness enhanced by the green
i’m entranced by a dream, so i turned the open road gold
i used some spells, and i’m hopin’ those hold
cause when i created this vision, i broke the whole mold
i used to be the default dd for the drunkies
my auto stuffed with blotto like a whiskey barrel of monkies. well ever since i hit the city, i don’t drive as much
but even without wheels, i still trust the midas touch
and puff the finest dutch
although i prefer gl-ss when i burn gr-ss –
potency parallel to nerve gas
a weapon of madness destruction
a must just to function in this defunct, dumb f-ckin’ junction. a crossroads where there’s only one right direction;
settle for slow hands, praise ethics and fight convention. purvey a craft of undeniable talent and tact
and hope with every f-ckin’ bone in me it gets the right attention
i’m hopin’ tech or sage will name me resident strange
cause i keep it thought-provoking in my heavensent range
i can be comedic or lead with some clever head games
or i can stop on a dime and leave you seven cents change
i go harder than a lesson in physics
and i intend to spread the truth instead of reppin’ my digits
i’m gonna vocalize, open eyes, cause i’ve got a good amount of soul and i was chosen to throw cold flows and close with an explosion

- mike east

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