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letra de dry bones - oddjobs

[verse 1: crescent moon]
you, you never, never got your hands dirty
looking purdy, hear my sound, i am worthy, stand st-rdy
your man’s worried cuz he sees i’m raining buckets
don’t ever bring a battle to my face and change the subject in public
one too many, one too many times
i realized the mind is a terrible thing to design
see, it’s the reason that we’re blind
but we still feel the barbed wire walls that we climb
hear me out, hear me out, we living in the dirt days
castles made of sand in the earthquake
so shut, shut the, the motherf-cking yappers of these rappers
smack em backwards at birth, keep hitting em afterwards
barefooted, barefooted in my prime
handcrafted words of wisdom tap dancing down your spine
many, many moons, moons, sun don’t shine
i’m the grinch who stole what was rightfully mine

[verse 2: advizer]
it goes sing for your supper, cling to your mother
ring the alarm and run for cover
this is the season where the mic goes bang bang
i’ll teach ya how to reason with a psycho – ain’t changed
since we left you looking for the culprit when your skull split from the headache
i don’t want to hear you rhyme, i want a three thousand word essay
on why you can’t hang and how you plan to change
and why you talking big when you won’t do a d-mn thang
this man’s strange, walking the planet like the world’s most popular mechanic
try to copy the candid style, get caught red-handed
cuz i’m better at giving out checks than balances
and better at snapping necks than offering -n-lysis
[hook x2: all]
dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones
headphones, deftones, and microphones
dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones
dem bones are gonna rise, yo

[verse 3: nomi]
i thought pens were great weapons and guns were for grunts
that gallop away from the battles that bump
systematic hydro l!ck the pavement
in a pimped out 88 tint
neighborhood watch is clockwork
of old ladies splitting they blinds, eating they sherbet
bert and ernie of the block counting betties they bop
cool don johnsons that don’t wear socks
it’s awfully hot and unusual for may to wear so many clothes
and for fellows not to say “h-llo hoe”
these are the dog days of faux pas and lost wage
heritage is hostage, locked in a bird cage
b-tch, i’m tripping cuz i asked permission
played by the rules while you fools were out ditching
rebels with out cigarettes pass the f-cking dice
wrote it so i wouldn’t forget life before mics

- oddjobs

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