[Verse 1]
I’ve been thinking bout the great escape, steak up on my dinner plate/ shipping crates of records to distributers to earn my cake/ ain’t a silver-tongued mass of cells that could take my place/ shall grace them with my presence, when it hits them who I am they might spit out their grapes/
Young brother with a passion, rude with the magic/ but he still tucks his napkin/ only guaranteed death and taxes/ redman roots and it’s time for some akshun/… actin’…foul… put my words in a box like closed captions/ they let me play with C4, I took out they whole faction/ toe-tappin’ on that grown man/ my life, it ain’t no slow jam/ there’s heavy metal in my punk rock/ life formed from a sunspot/ that’s hot enough to burn any critics of my jump shot, let’s play ball/ I won’t fall, been ten toes down since cartoons on my lunch box, kill the small talk//
[Hook]
… and I want, and I want, I want to hold you down/
But love can do so much and there’s so much I want to do/
See the same things when I look around that my friends are going through/
Groupthink is in the way of things/
Bad Blood is in the way of things/
Holding on to what isn’t there just ends up delaying things/
I get “so high…” just thinking bout what we could be//
[Verse 2]
Hold up, hold up, hold up/ when I roll up it gets so nuts/ we’ll have a party, yea, we’ll have a party. Break out the red cups, put away the cold cuts/ I mean, all I make is cold cuts/ that’s no lunch food, and that’s so rude/ you talking when you hear grown-ups/ I’ve got bills to pay, I need more bucks/ I’ve got girls, I’ll always need more bucks/… until I’m Daddy Warbucks/ or Jamie Foxx and calling shots/ sing the same tune, but your score sucks/ like… “You can’t touch this”/ Just kiddin… good riddance/ but when I sit with a pad and a pen, it’s only good writtens/ my god, where did we go wrong? Bringing mad dogs around these kittens/ some people say what they can’t back up. I believe they call that trickin’/ and that gets in the way of things… like good times from good change/ these kids see the worst in us. No unity, that Rick James/ it’s a damn shame//

[Hook]
[Verse 3]
Given the mood/ I see the color and I like it, too/ a little bit murky, but clearin’ the room/ I see the lights in the ice and the gloom/ Where are my manners? My name is Joe, y’all/ from where the coldest of cold are y’all/ you didn’t know? I’ve got flows here, y’all/ that stream of the consciousness’ golden, y’all/ Hold em up/ They’re slowing up my train of thought, electrifying that turnstile/ on that Vonnegutt, while mortals sleep, I keep eyes up, that slum child/ is not Hollywood, no millionaire/ but keeps it 100/ I’m frozen or something/ I’m up in the air/ I’m loving the feeling of being aware/ I’m fully prepared/ This life is not predictable/ this world is not unfixable/ I ripped a page from Constable, paint realistic, live avant garde/ if I do it, I do it large/ these media cats put Charles in Charge/ I’ll stage a coupe… Keep it true/ that collar’s whatever, my veins colored blue//