[Verse 3: Busdriver]
They pushed outdated policies like [?]
[?] alpha numerics
And look how I get treated, I know, how pathetic
When they build sphinxes in my name, make 'em hypoallergenic
And why you're at it, make yourself a cup of coffee
[?] butter toffee, turn a '90s Tamagotchi, feed your demagogue
Picture yourself in a Beverly Hills hotel eating a biscotti
Slowly becoming a minor celebrity disc jockey
After that, take a sec, relax a little, go put on your gray sweats
And simply, "Go fuck yourself!"
[?]
That's why I'm glaring at this casting call with a fist full of wisdom teeth
Slandering all figure-heads under a banner saying, "Mission complete, homie!"
Because of this my published works are microfiche
[?] vinyl crease got love birds bookin' bridal suites
And got my n***as engaging in homicidal streaks
'Cause my vocal outreach is the outcry of the sideshow freak
And they'll offend me more than a prayer could
I don't mistake goods with the greater good