Lyrics
You are not alone, if I wanted to, I could palm the globe
And leave a hole, like a bullet to Bin Laden’s dome
You’re about to enter the thoughts of a last prophet
I walk with alien currency in my back pocket
My brain lacks logic
Like One Love’s laptop when it last crashed cause somebody spilled a glass on it
Or left a lit spliff on the back of the mixer
And now the Jack and the liquor have the accidents happenin' quicker
I’m not insane, I just rock with a clot to the vein
And a lot of pain got me gobblin' shots to the brain
I stay panicked, I watch humanity damage and manhandle the planet
But nobody seems to understand it
Life is a mess, and I’m likely depressed
Like I’m watchin' all my family members fight to the death
And in the midst of this, rap is fallin' apart
Kids are sayin' absolutely nothing and callin' it art
Fuck swag if ya whole flow trash, ya voice heinous
Every verse poorly executed: Troy Davis
But in battles we can get it on
As long as you strapped like an Indian baby and bring extra arms
This is a massacre, a massive attack
So bad even a pacifistic pastor would have to react
It’s only gettin' hotter, say goodbye to the morning
Cause the world that you will die in is not the one you were born in
Hello, I am Kinetics, I am a computer
I am here to move you
What’s going on? I am insane, shots to the brain
Kinetics & One Love
Hello, I am Kinetics, I am a computer
I am here to move you
What’s going on? I am insane, get to know my name
Kinetics in ya headphones
I’m holdin' a gun, so I know opponents will run
I been sick since humans had opposable thumbs
I been sick since I picked up a pen in the third grade
My word play plays with words in absurd ways
But rap today is all little kids and mermaids
Congratulations! You finally hit your first rave
Man, I’m sick of these students with the shittiest music
Talkin' about they ball hard like they were the first to do it
Like they were the first person to hit a virgin
Drop a whole album with a bunch of topics no one is concerned with
C’mon son, look at ya life, it’s so bland
You really think you’ll be respected by a gown man?
So what if you can buy everyone at the bar a beer?
You haven’t written a meaningful song in ya whole career
I promise you will not have relevance here long
What happens when that partying element wears off?
You ain’t a performer
You just stumble across bars like them three hikers captured on the Iranian
border
Fuck with my producer, you could get ya ass trampled
Tackled in a massive avalanche of brass anvils
Ya whole production is a bad example
You not a musician, all you do is just push buttons and stack samples
Hand me that last handle, I’ll face that Jack Daniel’s
And I’ll still out-rap all you rappers who act manly
Fuck ya little baggy of Addy, yo you could have it back
Come to my apartment I’m bumpin' off of a platinum plaque
But actually, so let it speak for itself
Cause we have a track record unlike anyone else
So I take all your advice and I throw it inside a garbage truck
You tell me to dumb it down cause you aren’t smart enough
Go 'head and hate it, I don’t need you as a fan
You’re just embarrassed I dropped a reference you didn’t understand