((((((antennas))))))

[Verse 1: Masta Ace]
This animal style is like an annual trial
Trying to turn state's evidence with a manual dial, that's hard
Now zoom in and tune in to my frequency
Steppin' to the AM and slam 'em all in secrecy
My sound waves go deeper than underground caves
Pitchin' in Atlanta, you know I'm mowin' down braves
Don't be a hero 'cause yo, that's a sandwich, man
Crazy plans in my land, you'll get banished man
Try me on, impeach
Find me on the beach
Grimy on the speech
Just like an old Spanish man
"Maricón," you can’t be me like a body clone
In the hoods where I kick it like Karate Tone
This man spit right in the face of what you transmit
Holding on to relevance, hoping that your hands slip
And you fall into obscurity
Walkie talkie antennas with no security, praying mantis
You really ought to weigh your chances
This yellow brick road stay stormy like a day in Kansas
And then another twister touch
Yo, I'm on a roll like I twist the Dutch
I'm on a roll like I twist the Dutch
I'm on a roll
But I don't smoke though, nah

[Verse 2: MC Paul Barman]
We're all one, just different lumps of protoplasm
Every moment of joy counts as a bonus 'gasm
Each pore is an ear, from the shore to the skier
The core of the tear is the doorway to the here and now
We're an owl
I'm an orphan in Syria, I'm a more fortunate peer
A warm tent appears near the torment and fear
Our origin is clear, we're the source of the seer
I'm a self in sheep's clothing, a wealth of cheap loathing
Knowing nothing full well, compelled to keep going
Come for the wordplay, stay for the high voice
Return for the rhythms, move in with 'em by choice
If you didn't like me on other beats, you'll love me on this one
I didn't change anything, repeat yourself, it's fun
Kids' friends think I'm deeply flawed
And if I fix ten things, ten more will keep me odd

[Verse 3: MC Paul Barman]
We feel conflicting agendas rise and fall
What we call our identity tries to synthesize them all
But there's another option
Wise guys and dolls can watch them go by like flies on the wall
The Cindy mole is wabi sabi
The indie goal is job as hobby
Don't hyperfocus on your diaper crocus
Just change your drawers and wipe your tochus

[Verse 4: MC Paul Barman]
Beliefs are the police of the mind
Chiefly designed to relieve us of our fiefdoms of time resigned
“Said no one ever,” said no one ever
Every text from my father was meant for my brother
I believe that we will win
Me and grief, my evil twin
My third ventricle got blocked
But word tentacles could not stop so energy clogged, overheated, and hotboxed
So I pictured galaxies and reached out to Cathy’s anchor
And it yanked me open and back to the Earth's surface, thanked her
I'm not doing a Patreon just to find another format for you people to hate me on
I'm from the flirtatious Cretaceous era
Back when we asked girls on dates and faced the terror
But I'll leave the bitchin' and moanin' to the rich Roman old men
Young cats make dope raps, don't act like there's a glitch in the moment