While channel surfing,
I wind up on MTV,
See some moron smirking.
Thinking he's so cool,
Busting every homie line
He learned while skipping school.
At the Newstand on a magaZine,
I see the same moron,
Inside a limoZine.
So hey guess what peeps,
Let's praise all them all,
'Cuz they think they're so insane.
Think they're out of control.
Hey dickhead,
How many asses
did you have to kiss,
To get inside
this corporate bliss,
How many reporters'
dicks got sucked,
Just so they wouldn't
say that you're fucked.
Or maybe the reporters are
of a new generation,
That thinks it's taking over
this god damned nation.
Brainwashed,
by the guys in the suits.
Not the MIB, CIA or FBI.
The pig execs from their luxury sty.
Control your sorry ass,
Make you what you are,
But it's easier to do that,
If you think you're a star.
So go ahead,
Smoke your bong,
It's fine with them,
Just wear your tho-tho-thong.
Enjoy the illusion
while you still can,
Just remember-
you work for the man.
The same man
Who you lOve to diss,
Is the guy who makes you
drink his piss.
Then you spit it out,
Bustin' a phat rhyme,
But we still see
the thick yellow slime.
We must stop your shit,
Then stop them,
Help those
who we still can.
There is no light
for you to see,
And the answer does not
lie inside me.
Iconorgasm,
Everything's perverted,
And all you dopes
unknowingly converted.
To the religion of the hottest lowest denominator.
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