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(​(​(​99​.​99999​%​)​)​) | prod. MF DOOM

from (​(​(​echo chamber​)​)​) by MC Paul Barman

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For a perfect high five, keep your eye on the elbow. Whether bro hug or handshake I never can tell though.
You had me at (((hello))). “Jinx, you owe me a cøke!” I said it first but my homie is broke. “No I said it first, jerk.” Chill, it’s only a joke. I trace today’s status back to the face tat. I asked for a lace pattern and got a placemat. Embrace the problem or it’s a race to the bottom. Grown man thinks he can own land. A bone hand emerges from the stone sand. Disturbed burial ground carry around spirits’ silence, a scarier sound.
Update: guts to wait, cut bait? Stay put. Gray soot, take a pay cut. Each time I put my rhyme book away, I’m struck with another line hook to say.

Fellas! If you invest in yourself and got a big breasted heifer blessed with good health dressed like the help, say OWWW. Ladies! If you understand a better world’s possible and wonder if man is the number one obstacle, say HOOOO. Animals! If you love global warming and pee on the ground until you see ovals forming, say MOOOOO. Drugs! If you’ll get me high just this one time and won’t have me out committing gun crime, say SOMETHING. Bugs! If you’re old school mesozoic, please go explain how you stayin so stoic, say BZZZZZ. Children! If you reject fake apologies and know it takes policy to save wrecked ecology, say YEAAH.

Before you wake up, keep your eyes closed. You can control your dreams, fly over highs lows. Try prose. Even if you master rhymes, if you stick to what you’re good at, you won’t last through time. The person you like best don’t always make the best friend. When yes you question their loyalty, then spend less time with them. Before you lament the lack of corner office, remember you’re a former crawfish. By existing you’re accomplished.

The 99.99999% is too big to fail. The game is rigged, throw the pigs in a jail. Please don’t call it a poetry jam or else Im’a have to go totally ham. The dude abides. A beautified smile despite feeling rude inside. The true face surfaces like a magic eightball’s. Word it’s us who controls our tragic fate, yalls. I swear to god, if everybody scared of oddity embraced death, they’d be spared the rod. Im’a ask today as if tomorrow I could pass away. Let me see see what my artist massive has to say: Get your dreams off life support
Do some things to make your wife contort. I lov’em mean n tall and nice n short.

I don’t believe people are humbled by victory. I believe people are humbled stumblin round liquor-free. 90% of showin up is slowin down. I been round New York town since everyone I knew had a 212 number that you didn’t have to dial, while you construct your brand with a hot glue gun. Here I come to pave the way! Til im a boss, must shave the gray. My favorite phrase: Don’t give up. I’ve seen a lot of stuff disappear and reappear. 40 years old on Earth but measure me in penis tears. So right-brained, I might frame light out of sequence here. Maybe if I balance it all out, it’lll seem more clear. If it’s all the same to you, then let’s look at it from the angel view. Im’a do what i came to do. What I say comes true. What do you know about pedestrian barriers? While you cry goodbye to equestrian carriers. The crossed heart is a lost art. Commit to your shit nitwit, give it a boss start. The psylocibin style o vibin. The elephant in the room is the gaping chasm. Shaking spasms. Scraping bottom. Only community can make things happen. We must ourselves be living documents. When the Constitution’s dying at the stake. There’s tickets to the arc and it’s icin on the cake. When we set sail, piers be crying at the wake. My got-up-and-went got a percent so my get-up-and-go sped up the flow. It’s a cryin shame. Enter the lion’s mane to the science game. Backwards labcoat like a smock. Grok: Fur trim. Heard him? True fact: From new jack to legend in less than a billion seconds.


from (​(​(​echo chamber​)​)​), released May 18, 2018


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