[yo does somebody know where I am?, pssst yo can
Somebody please tell me where I am, somebody please]
Yeah I could feel your heart pulsing, from this side of the room
I could fulfill the emptiness that consumes your body, watch me bloom
As soon as Scottie beams me down to this place that I just clowned yelling:
“Yo, where the fuck am I?”
Excuse me sir, I got stuck when I drove my truck over this pile of sitting duck
MC's getting crushed here, pieces of head from the treads of my good-year
Would there be anyway that you can lend a hand to demand an abstract land where
Mic's, turn-tables and spray-cans stop the main man?
Through my brain jammed I may stand in the village of the damned
But I spend my energy like cash trying to escape this toxic wasteland
I've got to face the enemies that pass the line of symmetry
Welcome to the rhyme penitentiary
For centuries MC's were aware of my name
Stands on the bare naked, un-carved block of hip-hop
From this side of the room a heart to hearts inside (your mind)
Listen I've decided to doomed, I cry when it's noon cause they poison the food for thought
For now it's silent but soon the voices in my head would talk
I try to assume I could really trust the people I listen to
But they get all their information off that shit talking box that sits in the living room
I fly to the moon and back every time I close my eyes
Every rhyme I wrote floats the sky the sky's in a mushroom cloud
Formation made from atom bomb explosion, blocking emotion
Light bluer eyes from a potion, corrupted mental puss puddles
Each family contains: ink stains
Contaminated brains, dead cells and mutilated veins
Who created pain? What the hell is insanity?
An unpopular perception of reality brought to society?
I try to behave, and act like a slave and walk in the direction I'm told on the roads that they paved
One day I'll escape incarceration
But until then I'm just a sick worn out voice mental patient. (x3 layered)
Just a sore throat, worn out voice mental patient
[Come on, where am I?]
It's beautiful in here, wouldn't you agree?
What you hear and what you see is manipulated by music
Loosens, induces your fear
You've obviously lost your marbles
Only the insane hear your lyrics stimulate the mind, the mind (above time?)
The mind absorbs and analyzes sound as it floats from headphones when your lonesome
No ones around, and your spines tingling, goosebumps, shivering, quivering
It's creepy, I'm sleepy, leave me the fuck alone
Turn off the phone, my dome is beeping
I'm enclosed in 4 bleeding walls I call this home Eyedea zone
My speech just roams in search for peace
Bouncing off your thoughts as words secretes
Stomach acid gastric juices digesting the lining of your intestines inclining up, up, up
I must be claustrophobic at a pause with flows for vocal
Aerobic practice to keep me occupied before the closet opens
Unlocks in motion, need to focus my potent toxins through talking and neck Walkman
Eye's so on.
So I'ma explain what I am simple and plain
No human, but just a voice invented to play a mental game
You visualize brown eyes, baggy jeans
Earth dwelling B-boy reading graffiti magazines
Smoking beaties, grabbing mic's
Chilling at the bus stop and kicking flows, but you got twisted:
I'm just a voice, I have no physical position
Since you know me only through what was said
I'm just a voice and all along this song could been all in your head
All in your head
That's right, this song, all in your head/mind.
In reality, I'ma mortify on what upsets me that many
Dis-grilled the real vinyl brain tissue memory deal with me
I'ma be around till the end of time in reality no else
Hears me
I'm all in your mind(x2)
[…and I think you're losing it]
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