Checkers

Suit of calluses, active and moving callous

Anomaly in the algorithm, do the algebralculus

I'm all of Alexandria's information in aggregate

Ruling elder giving you the hell that melt the valuables

Riddances, grid at my back, I'm in the diagonals

Evolving, shiv in his back, he shatter the manacles

Man down, damn it, can he manage the variables?

Manually override these overnight Emmanuels

Man, m-m-m-mayday, it's the tapering of the straightaway

The making of a bedlamite, the straightening of the theta wave

Working on a way to cure this sudden inexplicable

Urgency to secure a sure-shot-shaped paperweight

Pay the man, simultaneously in survival mode

And looking like a hundred violations of the firecode

Designed to die alone moments out the styrofoam

But not before these no names go the way of the dial tone, don't

Staring at the sun until one us blinks

When it does, I'm running for the tunnels, hater blood in the Krink

Bloody hell, every day I wake and one-up a king

Whose kingdom come to refer to me as "you wonderful thing"

One of the filthiest fish in the azure

Cut a political actor to particulate matter

Should it present as a pattern, put the pig out to pasture

This ain't that action figure in the original package, we in the shit with the taggers

Bastards and bullies and baddies, and bitches and bummers

Who shuffle out of the shadows with the limbs of another

Trapjaw's head, Stay-Puft arms and the cape of Vader

Over rollerblading Barbie with a bow from Hank the Ranger

Bullseyein' danger, I'm a surgeon at seventy yards

As long as the target is not a Snellen chart

Hello from some hell and back to autograph an x-mark

Leaving the treasure for the next man, the best part

Don't show up at the get down

Talking that holy, as if you ain't hell-bound

Similarly, don't show up at the get up

Talking that hellish, as if you ain't blessed up

Just, just don't

Just, just don't

I'm on a higher kinda of prowess

I'm somewhere in the melee, while I'm somewhere doing tai chi on a mountain

Only out of bed to pick the lock and smuggle in his Visigoths

Who'd love to redesign the hillside little box by little box

Or get these businesses to page a stranger on they intercoms

The kind that sound real till you realize they did you wrong

Oh, this is definitely checkers, I don't play chess

I sack a city, atlases actually weigh less

After, mermaid leather in the truck

It's only in poor taste if you ain't never been the one

Pickle the hand of whoever signal his mans

That's a five-wick candle and a bib in the sand

My advice is don't approach him, whether sobbing in the copy room

Or eating hot pretzels in the mezzanine at Nas and Wu

Or at the hobby shop with Hanni copping model glue

Or meeting Bobby at the Bronx zoo

Don't show up at the get down

Talking that holy, as if you ain't hell-bound

Similarly, don't show up at the get up

Talking that hellish, as if you ain't blessed up

Just, just don't

Just, just don't