Pergamum - Armand Hammer

I woke up thinkin' about this planet being wiped away

Well, not, maybe not the planet 'cause, 'cause the Earth takes care of itself

But, but us

And then, uh, I turn on the radio and heard-heard Russia was fittin' send

rockets into space to blow up satellites, knock out power grids here

I suck my teeth and kiss

Seven horrors of Babylon

Scratched in the palm of a vagabond

Matter and form

I’m at where I belong

Dedicated to babies who came feet first

James Byrd, drag along

Back 'em off, blasted arm

Shrapnel gloss glass and steel thunderclap

Run it back Gotham, necessary toxins

Block bent, jot what I feel is my heart spin

Commonwealth, living wages, human income

Whichever way the wind front

Earth either in a pair of velvet creepers

Like body Dreamwork

Spirit weaver do your research

Every bar is a keyword, not ether

Kill up the rework

Loop back and reverse, until new unexpected patterns with the intention to

destabilize language to really get at the core of what’s happening

Tools of war plus sacrament

Take, eat this my body

Take, eat this my body

At the mercy of forces which can be explained, extrapolated and feared

No, we don’t say that word around here

No, we don’t say that word around here

Mark on the door is home spared

Poems, prayers

Was it a hoax or did they really disappear?

My folks been more than aware

Year, after year, after year, after year, after year, after year, after year

We all thrive out here, player

Player

Well said, hear, hear

Well, I for one

A long and storied history of fake thuggin'

Wasn’t around for boss mean muggin'

2Pac went to art school, but look at the grave they dug him

And then you shoot your cousin

Six feet deep fo you realize you bug it

Rats with the cat drug in, but love it

On the headstone, but she at home dug in

Stock bones piled in the pot, bubblin'

Effort’ly dance from swings of the truncheon

She said, «I'm not fittin' to have a drug dealer for a husband

End of discussion,» and it was

Regardless, the racket, Slazenger

Darkens the fifty-seven passenger

Dungeons walls was his calendar

Lucy in the sky was the Challenger

A balance in all things, yes

Still half surprised half impressed at who still cashin' cheques

Like who the fuck still smokin' shwag sess

Smilin' in hospital beds wearin' a vest, nigga sick

They really wanted to be nighty-six

Talk about trauma

And if that blew up, they come to your talk with the lamas