Flows beware for those who dare
Inhale balloons of tunes and spoons floating overhead while I
Step to the Dark Side of the Moon
Like a piper at the gates of dawn calling to the fools, granny
Takes a trip through fields of joy
Black boots stomp, proceeds poppy fields following this baby boy
At last I found My Own Private Idaho
A Coney Island of the, but now I think I gotta go
I rode in upon a storm the London fog
Had to ride the six-seven through the layers of smog
Feeling down by law like I was Jim Jarmusch
Pictures in my brain just like Diane Arbus

Too much combustion gets my brain dusted
Shadows of the pain sucking on a dead man's brain
Too much combustion gets my brain dusted
Shadows of the pain sucking on a young man's brain
Too much combustion gets my brain dusted
Shadows of the pain sucking on a dead man's brain
Too much combustion gets my brain dusted
Shadows of the pain sucking on a young man's brain

Always, feeling lucky like you was my sweet leaf
Generals gathered in the masses at Fort Spleef
Play naked twister with my twin sister
'Til you walked in my shoes
You cannot claim a blister
In my lava lamp performed a Black Sabbath
Speaking in tongues so druids start to panic
Like I was sippin' Moloko with the Milk Bar trippin'
With a porcelain mannequin, slip nipple drippin'
Climb through the room with walls of whipped cream
Life in my brain is not what it seems
Fell in a bowl of rubber sole
Stole a red Renfrew window, Liverpool lingo
Bizarre bandits suffer brain damage
But underneath the mashed potatoes the kids hide the cabbage
Fresh and brewed black just like a mother's pearl
And like the song said, I'm "the youngest one in curls"

Too much combustion gets my brain dusted
Shadows of the pain sucking on a dead man's brain
Too much combustion gets my brain dusted
Shadows of the pain sucking on a young man's brain
Too much combustion gets my brain dusted
Shadows of the pain sucking on a dead man's brain
Too much combustion gets my brain dusted
Shadows of the pain sucking on a young man's brain

Pros suppose who knows they flows
I'm counting crows with froze toes, wind blows afros
Mine's eleven tall and wide
So won't you crawl inside?
Electric glide and blue with something in the way she moves
My style's a front row canyon
Dunking on suckers just like Ed O'Bannon
I'll stop the world and melt with your mother
Got a cat in the cooler, ask Crispin Glover
The Guns of Brixton, don't you come steppin'
First you see me come, and then I see you jettin'
You say you're MC This, a maverick with the skills you bring
I am the lizard king, man, I can do anything
Beyond the valley of the dead, I do the somersault
Like Charlie Bucket when I saw him with Veruca Salt
So I say "ooh ooh ooh" like a sweat cog, blood on the streets
And I'm just sittin' 'round, sucking on a dead dog

Too much combustion gets my brain dusted
Shadows of the pain sucking on a dead man's brain
Too much combustion gets my brain dusted
Shadows of the pain sucking on a young man's brain
Too much combustion gets my brain dusted
Shadows of the pain sucking on a young man's brain
Too much combustion gets my brain dusted
Shadows of the pain sucking on a dead man's brain

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): Justin Warfield, Tim Simenon