Shut Up, Man lyrics

[Verse 1: Kool AD]
Yes please, test me, Nestle chocolate mix con leche
Isabelle Allende, no comprender? (get it?)
White n*ggas with djembes (oops) white b*tches with hair spray (oops)
Which way did he go? Slim Jim? Tempeh?
Or Henny or Penny Lane or feather brain
Cheddar cane, leather interior range
Inferior Timothy Leary estranged theories of nearly insane
Bleary eyed beardies whose gained sheerly by years of the same fears
It's weird to the same ears whose careers
Is to aim spears at the gears in the chains
And weird to the ears of the lame squares of the gear and chain set
Who perusing their tame losers approvingly
Name truthers to losers of games blibbity blibbity blop
Hideous all bark, no bite
Mama said, "don't fight." Papa say "yeah, right."
Sister in the dark with a flashlight
I'm walking through the park in the lamp light, I'm a shark on the lamb with the
Land mines, darts in the damn eye of the bull
The mouth is the eyes of the soul, the soul is the ass of the brain
The brain is the back of the train, back of the bus
Acting and such, crack, discuss, act with us
Or pack it up, or slice the price to twice as nice and jack it up
Who gives a f*ck what I'm talking bout?
Walk it out, knock em out the spot, let em talk it out
Do the wop, baseball bat, all that
Fall back, give a f*ck about what you wanna call that
[Verse 2: Heems]
New school Terror Squad, Tarragon, terror gods
Little white bumps on gold keys, People act like they know me
Finna go back to the old me, people act like they know me
They say I act white, but sound black, but act black
But sound white, but what's my sound bite supposed to sound like?
I think I sound aight, I sound tight
Ey El, don't worry bout how I sound aight?
Wanna make enough to send to cousins in the motherland
And Planned Parenthood at home, which is my other land
Confused, wish I had a hovercraft to crash, I'd love that man
My brother man said I could cop one for a hundred grand
A hundred grand is all I need, a hundred is enough for me
Enough for me to twist some weed, make some funnies with my beats
Some more money with my G's, half a million in rupees
Ya'll know Heems, I ain't bougie, Dig my dookie
If you feel like poopie, addicted like Pookie that pus*y do something to me
Yo, my man
You ain't funny, you Robin Williams, you got me all mad
If you doubt I spit fire you probably a drag
Mrs. Doubtfire, you probably all sad
Probably wack like Affleck in Hollywoodland
I probably would land on American Bandstand
If I was from back then and not a tan man
It's Himanshu, who could it be
In that red Budweiser hat, who but me?
White dad swag, my seeds change the world
Don't have kids, you're not that ill, too much greed in the world
[Verse 3: El-P]
You can see hilarity ensue, polarity rule truth
The street meat feed youth, the boogie men bend rules
Elite scene double breast monocle men move
When backroom blood boils the ink dries quite smooth
Dim lights might prove, to bend eyesights oooh
Eyelines obscured, skyline's removed
I'm fine, and you? Fine like sinew
In arm outstretched, inject in you
The flash mob holds hands, chants "we want food!"
Cargo bay loads, the drones just hit Mach 2
Burner hatch opens, the drone stops drops two
Like kumbaya b*tches - you flash us? Flash you
f*ck us? f*ck that, burn air, vaccuum
Now there's a hot flash for that ass babe, achtung
Yeah I stay guerilla mouth pouncing the block, true
Come on it's the way of things, relax act cool
No habla Inglés, only hobble, break disgrace
Kick punch run pause p*ss repeat delete trace
No option to talk it out, no route labeled 'escape'
Flame your fuzzy friend crunchy plus cuddle with hate
El-product plucking the little wings off your fly sh*t
Ants under the magnifier fry quick
Pinning back eyelids, gaze upon the god that has subjected us
My whole squad's Federal Reserve, no checking us