Inanimate Sensation Lyrics - The Powers That B - Death Grips

Inanimate sensation 

Vantage perspective from objective it came from 

Inanimate situation 

No relation close liaison 

No conversation, no social contagion 

Bother me, wanna be comrade intrusive 

I remain 

Inanimate aloof skip 

Counterfeit 

Like no can do bitch 

My vinyl vibrate higher than you, bitch 

I represent, ain't meant to pursue which 

One of you, oh you all wanna ride, well I ain't got room stress 

While we continue to make shit tight the loosest 

Blown out 

Base 

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You got a minute 

You're in my way 

What's wrong 

Wrong with who 

So what's going on 

Okay 

Where you at right now 

I'm not with you 

Inanimate persuasion 

Strictly still life with all of my occasion 

Inanimate surge of inspiration 

Glow like thermonuclear invasion 

Compared to swapping thoughts regurgitation 

I revel in lack of slightest acquaintance 

No rancid level after taste inanimate negate opinion 

As it unravel like enigmatic onion 

Layers of interdimensional dominion 

Photos 

Blown out 

Base 

Yeah, bitch 

My smoke, my butane 

My boots, my headphones, my medicated noose 

My deadroom, my schwartzwald hat, my Mac 

My macaque skull, my lysergic stash 

Empty streets at night, my bike 

Apartment sink filled with dry ice 

Condemned tenement, brandished rail spike 

Disturb in flat noir and stale white 

Grey cloud curled around my bearded compound like boa 

One of two thunderbolt we ain't broke on tour 

Concrète antique trapdoor twenty-four 

Spots to get that get right 

When I gotta get right some more 

Type of get right I can't afford 

I covet these things more than any living 

I've never been 

Blown out 

Base 

I'm so Northern California, I call scratch "bammer" 

Pure overhander 

Live show on a banner 

Axl Rose in a blender 

Slash on Satan's fender 

Rick James on the cover 

Running through your lover 

Like mean Mr. Mustard 

Stadium style 

For those who came to jock 

Watch that man salute you 

Endless nameless Lady Godivas we snoop to 

Like eighty-three mermaids in Brooklyn Zoo 

Inanimate ghetto box we used to pimp through 

Blown out 

Base 

Inanimate fixation 

Obsessed with my demo tape collection 

Inanimate riffs I'm glazin 

Brag you're making music, naw, you're makin bacon 

Skinhead, skinhead inna dublin 

I like my iPod more than fuckin 

Blown out 

Base