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Welcome to Chicago

lyrics

(I'm) From the city of fat fucks where bad luck overcast with golden showers/
Mashed up with older cowards who smashed up all hope of our generation showing respect reflecting they don't think that w'ere shit/
We have proof that they're not... go figure the picture/
They still call us "Coon" in the mute language of purse clutching and gawking/
So we hum this toon 'til the feathers ruffled humbles the watchers. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT?/
The spectrum reads more like an asshole than "that home of sinners"/
(Rascism) Its Same thing just different Thanksgiven dinner/
Between the lakes and plains; a headtrip more boots than suits by x-ray/
Where the difference between fucking and kissing is what you recall the next day/
Wake with smell of "What the hell?" under a Stockyard sun/
While an out of towner pounds a model in a house you help build but never saw done/
Should have learn the proper way to shake a hand. (How to) Play the game of the faking man/
Where we hate the fact that we're not some except for this laughing/
But Dog, almost every facet of this world is forced, flacid and plastic/
My boy held his baby cousin in tears think about his (own) father/
Who heart pumps dead beats... in honor of that label/
Who took the hands free route, rocked the cradle and bowed out/
With scribbled note on the table and a dust cloud/
What now? In one town run down by the sundial. The sun smiles to spot light overrun frowns/
Run over and over on like older home owner and soldiers for 20 sum miles/
Sometimes the flakes radiate to make beauty in winter scenes/
Sometimes they sting the already crushed to add insult to injury/

But the city just keeps going

I don't give a fuck who you are, so fuck who you are/
I don't give a fuck who you are, so fuck who you are/
If I did I would've ask (x4)

repeatx2

Biggie and Pac's death didn't teach me shit I knew bullets killed people/
Biggie and Pac's death didn't teach me shit I knew bullets killed people/
Before Puffy's fortune and mothers selling clothes in the name of corpses/
I watched the idiot box go South Central from Small Wonder/
Big Brother went from fucking Preachers to Preacher fucking teethers and terrorist hunters/
And it don't stop there: in the winter I spit on train windows quickly hoping skull and crosses (crossbones) form for the next viewer seated seeing the city/
Because the only one that are free are the homeless and pigeons/
The rest intently listen to pipe dreams and sadistic statistic digits/
And it might seem we crippled the Christians when Christian crippled in divisions/
'Cuz almost every Black that says "Amen" was branded that religion/
(Conviction?) That pungent something lingers, forms hands and divides us between "Jerry's kids" and Jerry Springer/
Like: Somewhere in this city a dick is being sucked because sperm translates to cheeseburgers for a 19 year olds/
Twice her womb she has seen murder... now she cares for her young/
You would stone her but no time between the clocks that we punch/
Pillars of black, funeral, mom not doing well:half because her son died (and) half because she knows he's in Hell/
He left crack in the streets doing his thing. Sad when his brain splattered the blood formed angel wings/
And I got one on my shoulder shooting up Boy peddled by the monkey on my back/
The demon on my left's jerking off to my missed ops (oppurtunities) of ass/
Rattling off excuses in the candence of my raps/
Throwing bottles at my neck and Lord knows I'm jealous of his laugh/

Repeat chorus

credits

from Analog​(​ue) Tape Dispenser SKECH185 : New Age Middle Finger, released March 1, 2011
Produced by Analog(ue) Tape Dispenser
Written by SKECH185

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SKECH185 Brooklyn, New York

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