Busdriver - Unsafe Sextet/Gilded Hearts of Booklovers lyrics

I frown upon the media blitzkrieg When the sephia tint bleeds out of your sleezy club striptease You give the cheesy club chick feed Your reality tv stud misreads his scripted pig oinks So i disjoint his measly thug prestige When my wheezing lung is squeezed Out of the pitiful entrapments of an able bodied squatter I spew frothy fodder From the tenuous underpinnings of a corroded mind I cant learn a thing Yet my creative furnishings are a body of water So im a coffee potter Yes im a barista at starbucks You can lessen my financial woes Just swipe your visa card once Buy this explosive whoopee cushion My loathsome p**yfooting should be put in Runs with a pizza parlor runts want of arcade tokens Join the styled fauna of the industry mixer and suffer mild trauma I need a chemistry kit sir And not to coddle pistol grips i only need one popsicle stick For my boyz n the hood diorama Oh my band s**s sh** Were not first on no bills We play sand buckets And eat birth control pills And my fingertips look like crisp fried ends I go off Diss my friends Looking at the negative balance on my account through a fish eyed lens You get some tap shoes and snorkles and bandmates And sheet music with trombones and handguns Unsafe s**tet We upstage the best yet and tongue bathe ca**ette decks Holding unpaid rent checks You get some piccolos and cutlery and thermoses And fashionistas with jumpsuits and congos And what do you got Unsafe s**tet Gilded hearts of booklovers And you decided to write the hip hop version of karma sutra After being fired from your job for uprocking to close the water cooler In the regalia of a star prick i measure our genitalia with a yardstick And dethrone my third person drowning it in sea foam And drink the blood from its wing nub dipping in it with cheese scone Exchanging pelvic thrusts while pulling the elephant tusk from my cheekbone Put my dirty feet in a pair of socks and my bird beak in a swear box And unfasten my pants Insure that my mojo crash lands on your happenstance Youre a flash in the pan Quid pro quo with the newest thing to come out With me its no go I'm a shooting range cut out But my woodie's blair underwooden, you should book me with wonder women I aint go the suggested footwear but the kids leave the breakfast nook bare When i prep fixins im hedging clipping their reading habits at the book fair But im too pithy and far fetched to compete with your hickeyed guitar neck I hear the political convictions of your depbut EP dwarf isclamfascism Great news! you get rave reviews 5 out of 5 But this'll leave your noodle full blown this year were touring funeral homes And that self serving agenda will buckle under the weight of these lengthy diatribes And you decided to write the hip hop version of karma sutra After being fired from your job for uprocking to close the water cooler Oh your games so tough, it de magnetized my key card Its so hot and fresh, your merch booth needs a sneeze guard And i fall off without a tug on the ripchord I amount to fuzz of the mixboard But how can i get my game re-charged, tell me. Oh gilded hearts of booklovers You don't have to be careful let your hinged airhole swing ajar We have disemboldened the cookie cutters Who the f** do they think they are Oh compromised worldview Please dont mind me as i kindly scratch my scabs Our nerve endings curly q When brushed up against the naps of flags Or that fascist vag. or that