Jak Tripper - Acid Test lyrics

(This is a gla** of water, colorless, tasteless. It contains 100 gamma of LSD 25. One tenth of a milligram, the equivalent of one 600th of a grain. An ounce of this material will make 150,000 such doses.) [taken from 1950s Housewife in LSD Experiment] I'm off chains like rusted chainsaws sprained Get your balls skanked I torch horse strength Pull vessels off frames The 4 bang Give his roof a gutter, let his thoughts drain On tour I almost faint huffing off paint Til I collapse like a corpse veins Banner or pure hate Rifkin pick up on lost strays Chloroform cloth, tennis shorts stained I've been going at it all day Windows to my soul a force frame I force s** on the track, I have the beat cum You're all cattle feed dung From thugs rapping on the ave with heat And battle scene punks I trash sets like early Aberdeen Grunge And call me Willy Wonka Peppermint Appleseed Tongue Who wants to leave? I eat acid tabs to beam up The Universe don't want no parts of Jak I told the Earth to pa** the heat son (Well I think it's time for you to have your lysergic acid. Drink this down and we'll be back after awhile, and see how you're doing.) [more from 1950s Housewife in LSD Experiment] The humans are fuel I'm not alike I'm so not alright I feel like my spirit shot the sky Dropped out of Oxnard in an Oxford tie My head could be colonized My music backwall like Vogner Me and Gore like the thing with two heads on Albert Hofmann's bike This adrenochrome make me feel like I walk in rocket sight I live under a rock I come out like I was thawed from a block of ice The coven in a church like crack hand-offs behind the pews I use rap as an excuse to express random violence through Peace to Johnny twenty-f**ing-three Red Typewriter Virus Crew About to tie up crews 'cause of the hit work I was hired to [Outro from the Supercoven version] (Christ. Look at this traffic up here, sh**. We gotta get home. Idiot, move over.) (After any kind of drug haul, everyone in the crew indulged. I laughed to myself as I pictured blues and Dilaudid in such great amounts on the spoon that it would literally be overflowing. Upon entering my vein, the drug would start a warm itch that would surge along until the brain consumed it in a gentle explosion. It began in the back of the neck and rose rapidly until I felt such pleasure that the whole world sympathized and took on a soft, lofty appeal. Everything was grand then. Your worst enemy -- he wasn't so bad. The ants in the gra** -- they were just, you know, doing their thing. Everything took on the rosy hue of unlimited success...) [taken from Drugstore Cowboy (1989)]