Retarded Fren (Thom Yorke & Johnny Greenwood Version)

[Verse 1: DOOM]
A honest day’s work for a honest day’s pay
Stay taking wages the anonymous way
Calmish, pay to the Amish selling
Promise me gold bond, palm itch swelling
With no tact though, ipso facto
Wondering in pictures why his lips is so black, yo!
No question, a ounce of prevention
Is more than a pound of raw cure pure intention
Attention! No throwing stones at the homeless
Or else ye yeself may end up with your dome blessed
Chrome dust, nano-sized particles
Stop telling codes through the YouTube, retarded fools!
Defeats the purpose
Greedily slurp up the surplus and burp pus
So nervous, you can hear the shirt must gush
Hush, hush. Trust. Visa-Villain til’ the Earth crust bust
Dead drop, leave it right there
Chop it off, heads bop, breathe it like air
You hear? Study the devil
Played the game and choose to do so on a bloody level
Who sent him? Steady losing momentum
Oh, eat a rapper one-a-day like Centrum
The mask is like a Gundam, dumb-dumb um
And it don’t matter where you come from, you bum!
What happens when the poles shift?
Don't matter for ish who you roll with
Cold and stiff, hold the if
If in case you need a facelift sold a gift
Rip it like space time foam, fold the rift
The sun still shines in the morning
We ain’t promising more, 'cept it's definitely scorching
Like an iceball, off guard, soft, hard
Ask if he could give an F like report card
Out-spit em’ like Jonah
Add bonuses, intel suggests they had no cojoneses
On this microphone business, it’s slaughter
That’s on his two pre-mature daughters' aortas
The flow was, uh, quarters, halfs, wholes
A roll. Like good times sold like good dimes
It’s just begun to began to begin
To end, to start back again for smarter men
And his retarded fren