Instrumenter
Ensembles
Genres
Komponister
Udøvende kunstnere

Tekster: Del The Funky Homosapien. Eye Examination.

I never had real friends 'til now
I never had to steal endz, 'cause that's foul
I walk the streets with the baseball bat feelin' secure
But I try not to incite fights that's immature

Actions that come back to haunt
I work hard to get the things that I want, and never flaunt
Never post where the most guys post high
I keep my focus towards the ground, and pound
Any brother who's my ace to my face

Even if snakes on the unda', I try not to wonda'
Trainin' my brain wit' mental anguish
Strange, it's rather eerie, clearly just a whim
I adjust the hymn
Deal with the dealers and the squealers and the jockeys
I can take the fizz out the carbonated copy

Imprints are made in the sand as I walk
Dim hints reveal rather grand as I talk
Small individuals seem larger
When they take charge of their antics
Makin' them gigantic

So you never suspect their neck bein' strained
So many situated thoughts in the brain
Heavy weight gain, so I weight train
'Cause to me the weight gain is a great gain

And I hate sane individuals
Close they nose to new aromas
I got the smellin' salts that are prone ta'
Clear the nasal, daze

You'll probably make a raise to a new level
And see the true devil
Any color ya wish because the devil takes any shape
Any form, any swarm

Ride over your dish like a picnic
I think the sick shit, I had my wrist slit
Like a suicide, but I survived and you can too
Plan to live a full life free of anxieties
While you're at it try to keep an eye on me

The man with meditation skills wastin' spills
Lyrical liquid, fillin' streams wit' dreams
And I will cream whoever seems wicked
Oral floral arrangements is strange since

You don't have the comprehension
I will stop and lynch them
I'm not the one promotin' gun totin'
'Cause I contain within my brain these computations
Just as potent

The mental torturer, of course
You will acknowledge me
'Cause Mr. Twister places pictures
Mental fixtures of photography

Shitty little bitties never get their clitties done
But I don't think they'll resist
Mr. Twister when I flex my verbal techs
Exit mental anorexic
I don't cater to the imbecile, so you can bet this
Is a brain buster, pain thruster, strain twister

Overwhelming pressure between the temples
When I touch the microphone, I might condone
The usage of abuse if it is convenient
I slant and lean it
Like a lever when I leave ya mutilated

By my enuciated cleaver
I survived the ither and the either
Now let me take a breather
From my own little world, little girls, little boys
Stay free of hurries, free of worries

That's riddle poised for posterity
Where are we, goin' from here
As a ho, and I don't know
And that's the biggest fear
When I'm flippin' into darkness
Now I'm askin' can I spark this?

It's D E L, y'all
From Hieroglyphics y'all
Sayin' peace

Nylige forespørgsler