Ridiculoid Lyrics - Singles - Cannibal Ox

[El-P] 

Shutup... Yo, yo, yo, yo 

My life's not right [check one] 

My life's not right [check two] 

My life's not right [check three] 

Are you ready? 

[El-P] (you know this was supposed to be for my album though...?) 

[Vast Aire] (oh... whateva) 

[El-P] (its ok...) 

When I send a sickness (ease down) dark soldiers 

fallin in with flying debris 

and bad programs of landmines 

that remind me of the sexiest of slow jams 

I pull a glock or fiver murder the group by numbers 

I was nursed by the biggest of buildings 

and had the sonic volcanic cap 

that the butcher have attached to his dead mother 

now this material might walk with a twitch and live for the twisted shit 

images of *boy scouts* getting pistol whipped 

electronic talents fold 

the realest television is the one that talks out loud to you 

when the plug is corroded out 

and they say productivity is up this month but I've lost my passion 

sick of waiting in line for my weekly chocolate ration 

its bad health and industrial sadness 

never helped by tofu franks or sadistic maggots 

this addiction is more random 

I walk door to door Mormon style spitting my sick tantrums 

because I wasn't born handsome 

now that my life's complete with a capacity to push greatness buttons 

with beats that have to be registered 

as sex offenders represented to the public 

I'll exfoliate your face with the acid inside my stomach 

Binge and purge, we live in thirty second blurbs 

and if consumers stopped existing we'd forget how to use words 

just fuckin' eat each other til the next *ice age* occurs 

or at the source awards scratchin our heads like "what happened??" 

if the kids would've disclosed that you all lost if you just ask them 

out to plant life that sits and looks pretty 

to attract curious intersection angels when in the city 

that's below any self-respecting actress in a german schiester film 

who gobbled doggie dick and human feces 

my fingers tap buttons with sanctified awareness 

from heart scan to pulse readings 

this a voice from a dead dimension without astral projection 

the sluggish rugged discuss bunk that hovers 

Acme lab rat escape barely breathing through the heating vents 

I'll try to come back for my family before the poison feeding commence 

but if I should exhaust God's patience on *someone* better take my place nigga 

tell 'em it's the love that got me this far 

and it's in my dreams I see their faces and... 

[Vordul] 

Murderers is like handles that clap sandals 

hand sand off tools and I can't stand on two 

amped off booze wheelie with my ancle bruised 

on the block silly with a mint ?ellie? 

watch young ladies hop scotch with the pink jellies 

that's me trying to wop vetti 

with the longness and pot-bellied 

til it's nauseous a raw dog orphan straight out of the orphanage often 

lost in a realm tryin to find cells 

strapped like a marksman with raps that'll off kids mad hi 

got my mind wrapped in a coffin resurrect thoughts in amorphous 

morph into Aquaman polyin in waters talkin to dolphins 

to get that bilingual spittin ?charm? tryin to get it on 

and spit a thorn that'll split a form in half studyin math 

light 'dro Eaton's love mixed with ash 

spit bats that stick to DAT's 

sip snapples and twist off caps when you fuckin with the sickest cats 

[Vast Aire] 

Yo 

My life's not right [check one] 

My life's not right [check two] 

My life's not right [check three] 

Are you ready??? 

See I exist 

iron fist 

metal speech 

scientist 

came out the womb of a phoenix expect nothin less 

then a mature flame velocity's my plane my thought is my train 

the galaxy's the body sun is the heart and the black hole's the brain 

heard my verse, *ain't nothin the same*. 

I leave your mouth open when you're standin 

(the word's the midget) esophagus is the cannon 

cipher unknown the upper hand on overstandin watch the landin 

believe it or not I'm walkin on air 

last of America's heroes here to close the circle 

I still remember the days of Coleco 

a daily struggle but I hold onto the vision 

hip hop at it's best when it lacked television 

and everybody wasn't an emcee 

you know where the flows be and if you check the rhyme slowly 

you'll find out cats is unseen like Jarobi 

and most likely openin doors with the psyche 

if it's a Mikey, they'll eat anything 

starving but hack or crush anything 

not stars from the songs we sing this shit's ridiculoid