ID Thieves Lyrics
| Song | ID Thieves |
| Artist | Sage Francis |
| Album | Copper Gone |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| [Verse 1:] | |
| While taking deep, slow breaths I try to grow wings | |
| Decided to stay low, the halo was a smoke ring | |
| Fell around my neck, I started choking | |
| My soul got stuck looking for openings | |
| I thought ghosts weren’t supposed to sing like cage birds | |
| If you’re a free broken spirit let the pearly gates burn, baby, burn | |
| The muted trumpets in my chest take turns | |
| When I release to spit valves gag on Gabe’s germs | |
| Some of this is fiction written all across it | |
| But this bathroom lid and I’m too busy spitting in a faucet | |
| Shitting blood thinking of the quickest drug to heal me | |
| But I’m not lovesick, your sick idea of love would kill me | |
| Time to pry open the truth | |
| Apply pliers to my own broken tooth | |
| DIY or die, no health care benefits | |
| You could spare me the ‘'I know, I’ve been there’‘ sentiments | |
| I sense a sentimental song coming along, run along | |
| Before I ask you to dance and all you get is trampled on upon faces | |
| Mainly my own though, I’ve lost patience | |
| I’m painting over old photos, I’m new now | |
| Fresh out the box all bloody | |
| Somebody cut me loose, slap me, call me ugly | |
| Say it how you see it, buddy, I’m a hurting hot mess | |
| A constantly inconsistent work in progress | |
| Fat girl in a prom dress, do more, talk less | |
| They wanna assassinate your character content | |
| When pressed like ab-workouts, super thin | |
| The whitest looking Jew screaming ’‘Jerusalem’' | |
| [Hook:] | |
| (Got my ID ready) | |
| Who are they? | |
| They are the identity thieves | |
| (Got my ID ready) | |
| Who are they? | |
| They speak war and pretend that it’s peace | |
| (Got my ID ready) | |
| Who are they? | |
| They are killers by association | |
| (Got my ID ready) | |
| Who are they? | |
| They’ll hurt your credits with misappropriation | |
| [Verse 2:] | |
| You can’t just get comfy and stand in one spot | |
| Like a king of the mountain you've been planted on top | |
| Surveying the land of your family plot | |
| ‘Til it’s all been abandoned, you're the man 'til you’re not | |
| It happens like that when you rest on your laurels | |
| Like a shot to your back, it’ll mess with your morals | |
| It’s a matter of fact I’ve consulted with oracles | |
| Precaution of a shaman who was dressed so informal | |
| I’m a poor man with cash making points with no fingers | |
| Bringing popular back 'till the smell of sex lingers | |
| Hard bodies will stack more neatly and tidy | |
| But I swallowed her visions, now she sees inside me | |
| She-devil so chiesty, deceptive and sexy | |
| Walk with me, I’ll give your legs epilepsy | |
| My game is so shaky, if you love pain but hate me | |
| That’s a paradox I’m unable to explain | |
| Conspiracy exposed, it’s the way in which we fold the bill | |
| Trying to overdose, instead you just choke on your pills | |
| It’s overkill if you’re just going for thrills | |
| Seek a mountain you can punch good, expose into molehills | |
| I’ve done this yoddle ever since I was a child | |
| I’ve got this other yoddle I ain’t done in a while | |
| It goes pure Himalayan intelligence | |
| Braving the elements from a man cave and haven’t shaved ever since | |
| Never forget, you were the sperm that made it | |
| Plus the unexpected pregnancy could have been terminated | |
| So thanks to chance, and romance, and dancing | |
| We’re headed to our own damn thing, prepare kid | |
| Why you think I let you get away with doing radio-friendly versions of what I do? | |
| I wouldn’t chide you, out perform, out write, and out rhyme you | |
| Outsmart, out heart, and out grind you | |
| Out shine you with the torch that was given to me | |
| Torches and I’ll pass it to bastards of the little league | |
| If rap was a game you’d be M.V.P | |
| Most Valued Puppet of this industry | |
| Get your I.D, Independent? Fuck you! |
| Verse 1: | |
| While taking deep, slow breaths I try to grow wings | |
| Decided to stay low, the halo was a smoke ring | |
| Fell around my neck, I started choking | |
| My soul got stuck looking for openings | |
| I thought ghosts weren' t supposed to sing like cage birds | |
| If you' re a free broken spirit let the pearly gates burn, baby, burn | |
| The muted trumpets in my chest take turns | |
| When I release to spit valves gag on Gabe' s germs | |
| Some of this is fiction written all across it | |
| But this bathroom lid and I' m too busy spitting in a faucet | |
| Shitting blood thinking of the quickest drug to heal me | |
| But I' m not lovesick, your sick idea of love would kill me | |
| Time to pry open the truth | |
| Apply pliers to my own broken tooth | |
| DIY or die, no health care benefits | |
| You could spare me the '' I know, I' ve been there'' sentiments | |
| I sense a sentimental song coming along, run along | |
| Before I ask you to dance and all you get is trampled on upon faces | |
| Mainly my own though, I' ve lost patience | |
| I' m painting over old photos, I' m new now | |
| Fresh out the box all bloody | |
| Somebody cut me loose, slap me, call me ugly | |
| Say it how you see it, buddy, I' m a hurting hot mess | |
| A constantly inconsistent work in progress | |
| Fat girl in a prom dress, do more, talk less | |
| They wanna assassinate your character content | |
| When pressed like abworkouts, super thin | |
| The whitest looking Jew screaming '' Jerusalem'' | |
| Hook: | |
| Got my ID ready | |
| Who are they? | |
| They are the identity thieves | |
| Got my ID ready | |
| Who are they? | |
| They speak war and pretend that it' s peace | |
| Got my ID ready | |
| Who are they? | |
| They are killers by association | |
| Got my ID ready | |
| Who are they? | |
| They' ll hurt your credits with misappropriation | |
| Verse 2: | |
| You can' t just get comfy and stand in one spot | |
| Like a king of the mountain you' ve been planted on top | |
| Surveying the land of your family plot | |
| ' Til it' s all been abandoned, you' re the man ' til you' re not | |
| It happens like that when you rest on your laurels | |
| Like a shot to your back, it' ll mess with your morals | |
| It' s a matter of fact I' ve consulted with oracles | |
| Precaution of a shaman who was dressed so informal | |
| I' m a poor man with cash making points with no fingers | |
| Bringing popular back ' till the smell of sex lingers | |
| Hard bodies will stack more neatly and tidy | |
| But I swallowed her visions, now she sees inside me | |
| Shedevil so chiesty, deceptive and sexy | |
| Walk with me, I' ll give your legs epilepsy | |
| My game is so shaky, if you love pain but hate me | |
| That' s a paradox I' m unable to explain | |
| Conspiracy exposed, it' s the way in which we fold the bill | |
| Trying to overdose, instead you just choke on your pills | |
| It' s overkill if you' re just going for thrills | |
| Seek a mountain you can punch good, expose into molehills | |
| I' ve done this yoddle ever since I was a child | |
| I' ve got this other yoddle I ain' t done in a while | |
| It goes pure Himalayan intelligence | |
| Braving the elements from a man cave and haven' t shaved ever since | |
| Never forget, you were the sperm that made it | |
| Plus the unexpected pregnancy could have been terminated | |
| So thanks to chance, and romance, and dancing | |
| We' re headed to our own damn thing, prepare kid | |
| Why you think I let you get away with doing radiofriendly versions of what I do? | |
| I wouldn' t chide you, out perform, out write, and out rhyme you | |
| Outsmart, out heart, and out grind you | |
| Out shine you with the torch that was given to me | |
| Torches and I' ll pass it to bastards of the little league | |
| If rap was a game you' d be M. V. P | |
| Most Valued Puppet of this industry | |
| Get your I. D, Independent? Fuck you! |
| Verse 1: | |
| While taking deep, slow breaths I try to grow wings | |
| Decided to stay low, the halo was a smoke ring | |
| Fell around my neck, I started choking | |
| My soul got stuck looking for openings | |
| I thought ghosts weren' t supposed to sing like cage birds | |
| If you' re a free broken spirit let the pearly gates burn, baby, burn | |
| The muted trumpets in my chest take turns | |
| When I release to spit valves gag on Gabe' s germs | |
| Some of this is fiction written all across it | |
| But this bathroom lid and I' m too busy spitting in a faucet | |
| Shitting blood thinking of the quickest drug to heal me | |
| But I' m not lovesick, your sick idea of love would kill me | |
| Time to pry open the truth | |
| Apply pliers to my own broken tooth | |
| DIY or die, no health care benefits | |
| You could spare me the '' I know, I' ve been there'' sentiments | |
| I sense a sentimental song coming along, run along | |
| Before I ask you to dance and all you get is trampled on upon faces | |
| Mainly my own though, I' ve lost patience | |
| I' m painting over old photos, I' m new now | |
| Fresh out the box all bloody | |
| Somebody cut me loose, slap me, call me ugly | |
| Say it how you see it, buddy, I' m a hurting hot mess | |
| A constantly inconsistent work in progress | |
| Fat girl in a prom dress, do more, talk less | |
| They wanna assassinate your character content | |
| When pressed like abworkouts, super thin | |
| The whitest looking Jew screaming '' Jerusalem'' | |
| Hook: | |
| Got my ID ready | |
| Who are they? | |
| They are the identity thieves | |
| Got my ID ready | |
| Who are they? | |
| They speak war and pretend that it' s peace | |
| Got my ID ready | |
| Who are they? | |
| They are killers by association | |
| Got my ID ready | |
| Who are they? | |
| They' ll hurt your credits with misappropriation | |
| Verse 2: | |
| You can' t just get comfy and stand in one spot | |
| Like a king of the mountain you' ve been planted on top | |
| Surveying the land of your family plot | |
| ' Til it' s all been abandoned, you' re the man ' til you' re not | |
| It happens like that when you rest on your laurels | |
| Like a shot to your back, it' ll mess with your morals | |
| It' s a matter of fact I' ve consulted with oracles | |
| Precaution of a shaman who was dressed so informal | |
| I' m a poor man with cash making points with no fingers | |
| Bringing popular back ' till the smell of sex lingers | |
| Hard bodies will stack more neatly and tidy | |
| But I swallowed her visions, now she sees inside me | |
| Shedevil so chiesty, deceptive and sexy | |
| Walk with me, I' ll give your legs epilepsy | |
| My game is so shaky, if you love pain but hate me | |
| That' s a paradox I' m unable to explain | |
| Conspiracy exposed, it' s the way in which we fold the bill | |
| Trying to overdose, instead you just choke on your pills | |
| It' s overkill if you' re just going for thrills | |
| Seek a mountain you can punch good, expose into molehills | |
| I' ve done this yoddle ever since I was a child | |
| I' ve got this other yoddle I ain' t done in a while | |
| It goes pure Himalayan intelligence | |
| Braving the elements from a man cave and haven' t shaved ever since | |
| Never forget, you were the sperm that made it | |
| Plus the unexpected pregnancy could have been terminated | |
| So thanks to chance, and romance, and dancing | |
| We' re headed to our own damn thing, prepare kid | |
| Why you think I let you get away with doing radiofriendly versions of what I do? | |
| I wouldn' t chide you, out perform, out write, and out rhyme you | |
| Outsmart, out heart, and out grind you | |
| Out shine you with the torch that was given to me | |
| Torches and I' ll pass it to bastards of the little league | |
| If rap was a game you' d be M. V. P | |
| Most Valued Puppet of this industry | |
| Get your I. D, Independent? Fuck you! |
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