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Yo, Kid!

from Central America by Mad Conductor

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lyrics

Yo, I roll a tone parallel to Harlem from county jail to Arkham
Expand across the planet's soft candy coating
I'll never rock it if the brand's demoting
I'd rock the iron coat and know my spine'd cope
Probably so, 'cause I'm infected with that Venom symbiote
I wasn't born I was assembled
On a canvas in a lab like Mona Lisa
A mile east of Boca Vista
Causing the tidal wave that might'a gave ya' broken skis
On northern Nova Scotian seas
A modest chain around my neck
Five electrodes on my skull
The storm destroyed the hull and now I'm null
Never saw the form Allah while locked to normal law
My form was off until I lost the form
And saw no form at all was high form
Inform your foremen of the protocol
Neglect the intellect to know it all
Yet it's hectic cause there's no scene to accept this
Eclectic sense, tense electric fence with extra strength
Around a plot on the Gaza Strip
Across from where a brothel sits
At a hostel in Dublin I met a waitress from LA
And bounced a.s.a.p. the next day
Now I can't see the point in your song
Perhaps I got it wrong
But it curdles my blood when I listen
I'm wishin' that I hadn't paid admission
But the fact's that I'm here
Now where that is it isn't clear
And still I'm shiftin' gears across your list of fears
Until I disappear

Kid, bow down to my sector You're too young to be selector (2X)

Materialized on Melpomene and Tchoups
And hopped a freight train
Read a lot to stay sane
I'm in the same frame as Oroku Saki
Roll through your local posse
Like a mobile zombie playin' roller hockey
No fool could stop me
But these nihilistic currents almost washed me up ashore like tide detergent
My memoirs a poisoned reservoir
Of my voyage in the Death Star
Where once in an unkempt attempt to stamp me in my camp
They stormed my tent
But not enough men were sent to clamp me
In my damp, dark, murky fortress that I happen to inhabit
With rabid packs of rabbits hoarding fourteen poison carrots
My cabin's made of barge planks and clap board to withstand large tank attacks
Before that monk's spade I bring the ax
I don't sleep, I am sleep
My grip could rip the sewer through the street
While my letters puff and melt
Like a mallow on a stick in the third dimension
Preserve your nervous tension
With solidified bacon fat consistency
Never mind the mystery
To think is to not know
So run from the constable with no thought to clot the flow
At the Ragnarok battle spot when on a roll
My blood could block a shark
And calm a bull

Kid, bow down to my sector You're too young to be selector (2X)

credits

from Central America, released January 1, 2010

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Mad Conductor Bethlehem, Pennsylvania

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