Nosaj Thing - Split Seconds (Between Nannies And Swamis) lyrics

[Intro] Be real; conscious rap failed us And in saying that, you know, welcome to my rap jam [Verse 1] The top-hatted Abrahams are shoveling the raisin bran In eyeballs their bi-laws are leaping off the laser scan Into your genotype telling you to deepthroat pipe If you don't do it well, these hoes might The red carpenter's quota fills the deficit in motor sk**s Of on-lookers raw sugars register at overk** Within your colon wall so a candied bowling ball You squeeze out at the open call but what if you could Inundate the open hearing with your shrewd barbs That perforates the sloganeering on the cue cards Would you prize that fine cut or just apply blush As besquelched sea-kelp nibbling on pie crust The job offers for Albany's count Dracula And calorie-count spatula kitchen staff Are on the lithograph Of your Calvin Klein alkaline-enriched gonads Should I kiss your a** or drown you In the saffron soy dip But my Zaxxon joy stick pokes at my Glitter-spackled tight jumpsuit Mr. Applewhite grunt pukes From the candlelight-drunk seldom-sung suit But you're the fresh-faced unknown With soph*moric gags and washboard abs Finding cineplex waste blood stones Can I be OG Mudbone, go free and unplug the phone [Hook] Nannies or swamis undefeated Screaming "Pansy commies! Love it or leave it," Or pumping antibodies in the VP's cleavage; They split it, split it... [Bridge] Cool points trump those DIY numerics (Be yourself) but I'm too embarra**ed (You got to be you) So that famed crook playbook and diary diarrhea split seconds Split seconds, they split seconds, split seconds... [Verse 2] The 1-800 dollar guilt trip stamped on my African name book Proves that behind the cumulus blue, there's a Hubalicious stew As Dane Cook's table reads, so I yank Butch's an*l beads Out of the clenched bum of PG-rated test runs Stuffing YouTube viewership up deviated septums Between two, choose your pick: Rule Zimbabwe Or improved computer chips become your new Yahweh Boo-hoo loser b**h, your dope's in the blood and stool Because most rap careers mirror stints as drug mules But are you that pickaninny, blackfaced Ren & Stimpy Our on-screen time is split 50-50, but I've only drawn guns On the construction paper with the pastel sticks And I'm a left-of-center loyalist Who's selling bean pies with a bad sales pitch This s** offender's foil fixed in utero On my own dumba** self, yeah I pimp super ho Whom is me; they liken Driver to Fishbone Have fire and brimstone misers disowned But I'm not sure, y'all are too NAACP or NWA on GP But I straddle the fence every nanosec Canceled checks line the uteral wall of my music hall [Bridge] It's like, cool points trump those DIY numerics (Be yourself,) but I'm too embarra**ed (You got to be you) So that famed crook playbook and diary diarrhea split seconds Split seconds, they split seconds, split seconds