The powerline is clipped
It's dangling about yea-high
Occasional spark
In the air, arid tongue stays dry

The chill in the air is a needle in the spine
Is a nail in an open coffin, coughin’ is a sine wave

Mark the marquee
The marks is out front
The bag, the fat bottle, the nose
Is still runnin'

Pop the trunk in every city just to change ya fuckin' clothes
Sandwich at the gas station, time to hit the fuckin’ road
Rolling coaster coast on, roller coaster paper
What you know about that up and down, the speakers poundin' bout to overload
No subs up in the Expedition, but the windows tinted though
Just enough to blow, or get dome
Plus it's home for the foreseeable
Step over needles up in the night's sin
And the fluorescent flicker *click click click click*
Right then
Grab the knife up in the duffel, nervous ain't ya (heh)
Hang the sign up on the door: “Service Later” (shh)
Too much murder music in the blood
And the mosquito buzzin'
The zapper getting action back on track for at least a dozen days
So a slip seems imminent
Banana peel, banana clip, gorilla pimp
Snatch a weave, slap a trick, take a life, easy
Freezing. Can't leave rap alone, the game's teething
It’s clipping—