Themselves - You Ain't It lyrics

You ain't it [Hook] I'm saying, you ain't it You ain't it I'm saying I'm saying, you ain't it You ain't it, I'm saying [Verse 1] If you paint it on long And rhyme to not wrong The fawn of all song A pawned goner to strong… I would not call you poet If you tryharditapart In a guarded bombardment Of self martyr and garbage… I will not call you poet I'd call you farmer You will not be called by me poet… These stricken s**as is soft often And offed goners got in the cough of no cause Caught in a cauphin the size of a men's medium Their pen's bleeding them Of anything half-life, all might or believe and then They're thrown to the stone sewn dead seed of a leader in them And the rest is all froze poser and everything opposite sober Choked joke broker of the lowest common eroder Of all that's good in the oven of men And the evil's they choose through… So I'm a catch you in the wind w/or w/out crew And do rap words to you Farmer… I push it previous and meanted at the pink pit In your pensive And throw it brick to the hid gla** of frontmen with No hand cuffs near this mouth or a doubt in the gum of the gold that I spun from the wick of a winded and abandoned me… Abandoned like education in major markets My sort of artist Doesn't think like a banker Write like a carca** Dim like the farthest Light sources.. You poor portraits Of breathed corpses With out torches… You only omen like horsehead And then in your likeness we're force fed Gallons of brag, brief, and retreat over beats Re-introducing Advertising and the un-amazing flame with no heat King brief of think least His word worth discrete Scope of effect, petit And you're weak weak weak… [Hook - extended] You call it pain I call it Take it off Take it off Lest you forget (I'm saying lest too much) I'm saying, you ain't it I call it, please take it off(?) [Verse 2] Are you capable of brave or able only in the stable claw of something corporation sized All babel eyed And vacuum lived… The cattle's pride b**h in the belly of buy Terrible merch puppet of major label tom foolery… Or the easy indie emo born calm cool and free Who ruin preach in perpetuity Recycling your michael, Dylan, lennon and oshea's… Role-play is a thing of the simple Jesters beggars and minstrels You juice it a thimble for fans Yet gulp gold down by the goblet On some copsh** Decidedly toxic Bill whipped giving godless, a bad name… Another coat of grey on the shame colossus We got this, above us, beside us, and of us… A rotting, I hate this fake it and make it, till caked in maggot racket, you play with its magnet, say it your famished and managed, a half day, in a bad way and the anthem of pay It's tragic You're putting the mirror and smoke back in the magic This is your act right in verse fire, you finna fry on a purse pyre, unadmired by the ever in lasting… What is it in song that you're casting Any efforts in last straw grasping, or a weakling unmasking An expensively lit, exhibition in quit, about as two bit As it isn't backed by the rich… So was it you or the script One never should a, would a trusted their hearts with… Your weak heart (?) [Hook - extended] Motherf**er, you ain't it