Verse 1:
Whacker than moles, hit with mallets
Back into their abysmal assholes
More synthetic, than Great Value plastic wrap
A statue that escaped from the House of Wax
Organic by chemistry, composed atomically
But you look carbonic, no real reason to be existing
Your lifestyle has no chiral symmetry
Brand manufactured, conveyor belt rhyme schemes
More disposable, than any church whore's aborted baby
That's why the pen is mightier than the rapier
Before applied to action, verbatim
It has to be authenticated on paper
Because objects have to be named for purposes
For words authorize commands, before legislators
Give orders to executors, to judge court justices
Heads giving head to each other, judicial review in private offices
Author of my life, I don't need friendship or advising
Not dependable, amicable, or placebo sugarcoated
Neither for leading the blind nor following black sheep
Signing others' lives away with exemplary penmanship
Buzzier than a spelling bee, you drones only making honey
Flyer and bossier than any queen larvae
Hymenoptera, the highest genus, I'm that boss wasp, poisoning colonies
My biography is based on real life, automatically
Glossy and polished on the front, you looking like Xmas-wrapped shit
Must have an ass for a mouth, everything you say is halitosis
Recycled, but useless environmentally
To every man, you're trash, not treasure
Not useful for productivity, not even human resourcing
If you don't like my spit, abide by this contract, haters
Flip the cap and suck the ink out of my pen, then
I dare you, to try to find the whiteout, so chew on this Now And Later

Chorus:
We are the salt shakers and pepper seeds, making
Every unlucky fuck, dehydrated, sneezing and irritating
More than any troll under the burnt bridge that keeps on
Building it back again between acquaintances, enemies and nemeses
Iodine and capsaicin exposing all these marauders
Redrawing the line between fraudulence and authenticity



Verse 3:
Time to get the guns, busting out the armory
Supernatural, brought out Sam and Dean before retiring
Choose one any arm, spin the wheel, deal the Tarot cards
52 pick up, that would be my caliber, shooting
Holes in invalidated theories of ghosts, fiends and freaks
Gone extinct, puffed smoke while, I remain as a white wall's bloodstains
So swarthy I had Paranormal Activity turn white
Like they saw apparitions, having Houdini seeing illusions
As if the universe was playing tricks on his reputation
Seeing shit unfold in unphantomable polygons of 2's and 3's
My ghastly presence spooked his shadow to run ahead of him
That Black Magic, I be making David Blaine doing quadruple takes
So much that he'd perform his last act, appearing within the psych ward
Checking himself in with Casper's family, admitting that he's seen
Everything, they even invoked urban legends in my name
Then began to channel King Boo's insane, cackle as the night went away
Mhuamhuamhuamhuahahahahahahaha!