Busdriver, Kaveh Rastegar, Zeroh - Absolutions In the Hottentot Supercluster lyrics

[Busdriver, Kaveh Rastegar, Zeroh - Absolutions In the Hottentot Supercluster lyrics]

Absolve me of my sins and drown me in riches
The music don't make money, it makes men
Make money, make money, money
(It's the dude you haven't heard in a while)

(It's the dude you haven't heard in a while
Cause, I'm great and wearing
A permanent smile
Yeah, I've been going on my own trip
But, I forgot that I went on it)
No, there are no businessmen
In this small apartment
You know I'm still covered
By the slave insurance
You don't get no extra points
For your little humble brag
A complete picture is missing
Some puzzle slabs
No, there are no public schools
For my child prodigy
There are no courthouses for


This form of justice no, there are no black
Militants to bench warm
The feds are using your phone
Data for revenge porn
No, we didn't forget author
Niggas is still enraged, kill the beige
The economics nigga telling you you
In the gilded age it's easy to stop eating
When your belly's full
Like it's easy to stop learning
When you fail in school
Yeah, this is the beleaguered
Rise of fancy pants, drive an ambulance
Tell them bola-rhythm martyrs they’ve
Got an outstanding chance, candy land's
High brow wanna colonize the
Streets of Compton
Because there are no yoga spas there
There are no vegan options

What could you want
With what's in our tiny world?
Our coveted song book
Is under our kinky curls
But what makes your genius real?
Cause we all know how it feels
What makes your genius real?
How can we make them kneel?
How can we make them kneel?
How can we make them?

Tell the white man none of my music saved
Exceptional negro's pubis shaved in
A computer grave
When I suggested there's a plot
To murder Driver and
Deputize the service providers to
Co-op my neural fibers
There's a police officer in the room
Can you find the police officer in the room?
Conservative niggas hate fruit's
Say I am Gallagher
My nigga, I died up on the Mayan calendar
My twisted grimace is claimed
By your art blog my heart clog
My sense of need can inseminate a guard dog
There is a police officer in the room
My nigga
Can you find the police officer in the room?
He's looking for the bi racial super husbands
Nigga, we always doing something
Can you find him?

Where they at? Where they at? Get the gat
Get the gat (Get the gat)
True killers
My one mode, a loaded golden gun
Bullet point buster struggle
Young son will blow a few hundred ones
Blunted fun, stunting for the witnesses
Thinking this ground fall up in this shit
Method act toward the climax
My raps bull stems, puppet time caps
Inner spirit animal hopelessly be
Trying to find that
I know at one time they called us monkeys
Now we just climb racks
Don't that make you blind to the finance?
Kinesthetic grind fine tuned into divine fact
Black lacquer shine, yup
That's that tacker tactile
Jamming at the crack of functions
Shooting them late
Even at night their ghetto bright
So we get lunch
We get fucked up off of love
Sucker, then hush
Be damned if I was in my city
That's right my city
I pity those who don't show it
I know this cause I bleed plenty
Elbow leaking, jeans are green DNA
Stream hollow Elaine
Cut my groove a silly way dOB Elitists
I need my weed to be star-seated
Get deeper I get deleted (Calling all cars)

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