Wombaticus Rex - The Resume lyrics

I promise to leave, the crowd too astonished to breathe For comic relief, I get drunk and vomit emcees I love repeating rhymes with double meaning So sick that most of my fans got trouble eating Check the resume, learned to levitate in seventh grade Got addicted to liquid acid mixed with lemonade I'm sick of tired of spitting written fire Attacking kids with pliers and rolls of chicken wire I can scream and shout until my veins explode Or juggle dreams around and fingerpaint with flows Leave the heat with the sheep, I pack glossaries Blast philosophy until I'm past the last apostrophe I may be high tonight, but my advice is act responsibly And practice constantly to increase your rap velocity Only opinion, just a suggestion Cuz I get the same question so much it's depressing Previous experience with smoking herbs Then choking nerds with ropes of broken verbs Check the resume, man, for most of my life I been approaching the mic like an explosive device And I been floating all night...let my flows explore From the ocean floor to your local grocery store When I blaze onstage...what a lotta you see? That's holographic, it's not like my body is me Man made words, words made flesh Flesh made God, God made man I'm just dropping the truth on top of the groove And walking you through the cycle of the consciousness loop Slap college kids for perpetuating rap politics I love my fans but I refuse to have followers You do not know me, the rhymes I write Are just a tiny slice of what my mind is like So here's to dudes who refuse to accept reality I question my talent, sanity and s**uality I test the limits, thirtyseven's never repetitious Check the physics, I k** God and get religious Bodies get slammed, with the force of ford economy vans I eat adrenaline from hippopotamus glands Dig: I freak a flow that frightens most professionals Then put some frozen vegetables over my swollen testicles Hands in the pants bandit is back, panic attack I'm here to hump the drums until my sampler cracks Tarantula rap, you just can't handle the facts I got eight fuzzy fingers of d**h, examine the math Previous experience with smoking herbs Then choking nerds with ropes of broken verbs Check the resume, man, for most of my life I been approaching the mic like an explosive device And I been floating all night...let my flows explore From the ocean floor to your local grocery store When I blaze onstage...what a lotta you see? That's holographic, it's not like my body is me Man made words, words made flesh Flesh made God, God made man I'm just dropping the truth on top of the groove And walking you through the cycle of the consciousness loop