[Verse 1]
Don't shoot me, I'm just a
Piano programmer for mass media emissions
On a mission for statisticians
Sony commissions to keep their beats hidden
Ethnographic infiltrator, gaze regenerator
Watching Destructicons beat, mash, bang a gong
With traditional songs sung by white woman in sarongs
Two japanimation flicks with b-boy tricks on cardboard boxes
For marzipan and Amsterdam, breakbeats from Thailand
Downloaded by the Ku Klux Klan, chapter in Croatia
We've come a long from mirgatin' crustaceans
Generations of relations, history of violence
I talked along and babble on, next time I'll try silence
Won't bleed shit, my beats hit through infinite
Spot 'em spirals in the body of time, the family of mind, in the beginning
Two-thousand and twenty I'm living
But these imperial eyes can't even disguise what we be, vivid
[Hook]
In America, been shot down
Be a unique emcee on frequencies coming at ya'
What you serve up gets passed right back to ya'
From Fordham Road to backpacks in Kathmandu
[Verse 2]
It's a magical macramé tapestry cornucopia
I'll float in a bottle with a message "Psy-ops is smokin' ya'"
1947, bangin' flicks, see that shit
Then go run Elizabeth, when you done with it
Check Mr. India to cleanse your sins
Freak the receipt and cheat him at ?
Check the value bin for Rin Tin Tin at Shaolin
Exchange between nations in salvation and Satan
Blend and listen, what I'm makin', they shippin'
If what I'm kickin' is hittin' harder than ten mega-tons
Dharma bums, rolling drum work better than GIs
Virgin flys, MTV rules these skies
But we rock blocks from Hatfield to Bed-Stuy
Highspeed interactive, black market dialogue
Oscillate like analogue, powers dissipated
Inter-related testimony re-instated common shit
"just shut up and play in", turntables relay it
The spirit reflects it, and we pray it