(Slug)
We travel in a missile, weaving through your cornfields
Leaving behind a trail of amateur porn and orange peels
Navigating through this basement
That masquerades as a nation
Practicing my acetate masturbation
Watching the expressions on the faces
Of the ones designated to be the queens, kings, and aces
How many miles can you put on one soul
Before the smile starts to blend into one big bullet hole?

(Brother Ali)
Shoot through it as a unit with the best of my crew
Pumping melodies and memories too, my head's killing me (Oooh)
Stomach empty, my bladder is full
Two year old son on Jaybird phone
Crying, missing me
And I'm starving, I'll bite your arm off
Saber tooth tiger, run the night with the sharp claws
In your back yard just to fuck with your guard dogs
Throw a brick through your shit, come cut the alarm off

(Slug)
Fuck yes
I do my best to take advantage in bouts
With one hand over the mouth, still managing to shout
There's more said within the lines of your forehead
Then they could ever try to fine print on the inside of that warhead
Cross Country, like a little lost junkie
Make 'em hot and jumpy, trying to get that God money
Steering the van through the blizzards, the fanfare
Pivot when we visit, spit victim if you stand there
(Brother Ali)
Check a map of this picture, throw a dart at it
That's where
We took a room back full of kids and threw a heart at it
Angry like a hostage
Kicking like a little bitch in one of Dibbs's mosh pits
Shifting through your city limits, trying to find the raw shit
Thread a needle with it and weave a world of heads together
'Til we get em carsick
Face full of war paint, strapped ready for action
Battle cry just trying to seek the satisfaction of the captain

(Slug)
Climbed over the side, closed his eyes
Took a dive into his famed inspiration for staying alive
Swam to the shore
Stepped upon land
Walked up to a whore
Grabbed her by the hand and said

Hook:
Let the wheels spin, Let the room shake, Let the speakers blow
Let the light in, Let the kids play, Let the people know
Let the roof burn, Let the girls love, Let the heat flow
Let the world turn, Let the curbs up, Cats Van Bags Yo!
(Brother Ali)
Lock eyes with a thousand people at the same time
They mind believe in us
My style of graffiti is
Squeezing just the Midwest sweat out of my shirt
And leaving with my life essence embedded in your dirt

(Slug)
We work, move, and hustle with the rest of the gypsies
Spoon feed these issues to a new school of fishies
Swimming through a hazy shade of passion
Here they come, the Hazelden has-been
And his chapter

(Brother Ali)
Yea, that's them, the migrant seasonal workers
The finest imperial wordsmiths on the circuit
Two million smiles and running
Stomping, trying to flee the heat
Turn around shooting at the monster till his knees are weak

(Slug)
They call me Jesus Freak, I came to listen
Then I save you
Then I make you my favorite position
Chasing this pigeon down the street towards the banks
Just in case my my traffic receives Jeeps and tanks
(Both)
And we wander through this soul
So let it be known
Mama I don't know if I'm a ever be home
The revolution won't have any distribution
I love my son and my music so I gotta keep it moving like

Hook
Let the wheels spin, Let the room shake, Let the speakers blow
Let the light in, Let the kids play, Let the people know
Let the roof burn, Let the girls love, Let the heat flow
Let the world turn, Let the curbs up, Cats Van Bags Yo!