Lights, camera

The Scene was a rage

Detected the misdirection

Them traps were a-maze-ing

As they presented them empty questions

Expecting them full sentence replies

And government mentions

Fuck that

Them mishaps

How his words never fit they ears

They always seem to be a mismatch

Tryin to lose em in the sentax

The odds stacked against them all

Got him feelin so mismatched

How they call in for the dispatch

"Like bring in that back up

That one mind too tough

It needs to be latched up"

Cook a batch up of that shit

That keep that crack cut

And fed it to them bitch niggas

Starvin and them sad muts

That's a must

Like a stroll or a strut

With the cane and a puff

Of the loosie, of the dutch

Ugh

A scary lot

From the cracks in the cinder blocks

Them autotrophs

And prokaryotes scare me not

What a backwards plot

Till they cut, to the act

For the backpack fulla crack

Packs as he pass that back

To the cash for that credit stack

And that cash back

Ugh

Where them defenses at?

The SAVEMONEY Army

Strikin back on full attack