|
We're pulling off heists and putting on wigs. |
|
We're gathering ice off of flipped over |
|
Brinks trucks |
|
And everybody suspects us. |
|
They rounded us up and rounded us down. |
|
They ground our bones up and founded a town. |
|
Where were the |
|
Prophets when |
|
I got my beat down? |
|
CRACK! goes the crescent wrench. |
|
Back to the present tense. |
|
Tony's talking to me 'bout,"Get my money out!" |
|
Legs shattered, |
|
Teeth chatter, |
|
Tony's crony's like,"What's the matter?" |
|
Rack, pull the focus in, |
|
Trapped in the basement, |
|
Digging like a rabbit for a couple of karats. |
|
Squeezing out of dryer vents, |
|
On to my retirement, |
|
Hopping over hedges, |
|
And I'm back out on the street again. |
|
CRACK! CRA |
|
CK! CRACK! |
|
Where's that coming at? |
|
Slugs in the shrubs. |
|
Kid down the street |
|
Pissing from his pistol about 300 feet. |
|
Didn't catch his cousin creeping up on me. |
|
There's no better time |
|
To let the cannons fly |
|
Because there are no whites |
|
And there are no eyes. |
