A historical - you think this shit just dropped right out of the sky
My analysis: it's time to harvest the crust from your eyes
To surge and refine, to rage and define
Ourselves against your line
so sorry, friend, but you must resign
You want to figure it out?
We'll throw down, we'll throw down
You want to figure it out?
Well, throw down your bulldog front
Bold bold mouthtalking
Not so bold now that you've eaten your own lips
Flecked, mouthspecked, you strip the skin right off of the bone
And I would never say you act without precision or care
But, it's all attention to armor, to the armor you wear
So, well, let's knock and check to see if there's somebody home
