I push the water out a camel's hump with one hand
All blues singing outta black lungs
Sending prayers for rain water under a hot sun

Tasty kinds of lifelessness inserted silently
to the business plans

I never met another man I knew to breed my equals
I never met another ape who wrote the scriptures of the sequel
I never met another man
I'd label truly honest workers by the grit of their grin and then shrug with chagrin at each of their untrustworthy kin

Dark
Clouds to the sky as a genie turns the world cold
Barren flatland without a monument to billfold

5 minutes to rebellion
I'm Calling all hellions
Swallow coal and bedrock to watch the sinkholes settle in
Cement mixer to landlock the delegates

(Lookin' good?)
Hella straight & irreverent

Watch her bartering for martyr's food at the Thunderdome
Knocking martyrdom at Thor's door
Partied till the lungs swole

I sword-dance with eyesores
Take a light arrow to the narrowed down weak points and mount the head of an Eyegore in the foyer

Know your guts never really amounted much, chump

Take no tours here, but I'll run through a tour and take two more for the whole year

No your guts never amounted to much chump

High flyin' is the white flag you'll ever see
According to Wimp-Lo bleeding means I caught the victory

Secret keepers peep on my dreams to try and decipher whether or not I've got a side-piece

Treat me like your specialty candy and place me on display with fancy colors and spotlighting

Oh Cuna!

They're calling out for Ursa Majora
Patron Saint of Patron Saints
Rubs off minora scrubs who dare to knock the jewel from off its stoop and set the boobytraps a-loose
Looks aloof until it's time to do my dance and then I'm 20 pigeons looser than the losers who think my style flew the coop

Oh Cuna!
Make these mountains move sooner
Carry all my burdens and hold a peace sign for the weakest link
Use my art and use my rhyme
You spend a dime you get a two-for

I act with no force and make the biggest waves pull yours
Under where we plundered

Now my shoes are gold and stupid
My homie Stupid grew his wig out
Now he's blowing glass-dragons like a glass-blowing dragon

That's some advanced jargon

I pull asunder rap and poetry to play a line about taking grammatical pardons

Ain't it gnarly how he's rockin'
When they're callin'

Oh Cuna!

They're calling out for Ursa Majora
Patron Saint of Patron Saints
Rubs off minora scrubs who dare to knock the jewel from off its stoop and set the boobytraps a-loose
Looks aloof until it's time to do my dance and then I'm 20 pigeons looser than the losers who think my style flew the coop

Oh Cuna!
Make these mountains move sooner
Carry all my burdens and hold a peace sign for the weakest link
Use my art
Use my rhyme
You spend a dime you get a two-for

Oh Cuna!