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Atmosphere... Atmosphere.... Atmosphere



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Atmosphere and maybe you don't like us

But of all the stars in the sky believe we're one of the brightest

My life is as trite as your favorite rap record

And I'm posessed with that insight that enables me to laugh better

From the last letter back to the A come around my way

Out of the wrapping paper with out the fucking holiday

Can't never be captured but they can toy with my shell

But only after they walk a mile backwards through b-boy hell

From hear on out the sun rises at noon thirty

And didn't quit pressing till the whole f-ing room heard me

Soon the birdy will fly with or with out the wings

As straight as the equator, as nosy as the outscenes

Let the poppers pop let the breakers break

Make the dj's and the assholes and all the rappers snakes

Well most rap writers are wierdos now a days

So I hang out with myself and a rafter and a belt

Every chapter that I happen to skim

Appears if it must of been written by me or the brothers grim



And the moral to the story comes equipped with a sting

Once again I'm picked for the wrong fucking team (fucking team)



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Now I'm sleeping on floors of temporary friends

But I'm keeping the store front as clean as I can

And I'm sweeping the sky for today's revelation

And I'm needing some time and some proper ventillation

And I'm building a house for everyone to hold

And I'm filling your mouth with the keys to my soul

And your spitting me out piece together the puzzle

You got to get it all out while your learning how to juggle

And the bricks weigh more then they led you to believe

Remember never let nobody leave you to believe

September was the first time I had to breathe

So I learned to hate harvest, started at a trick up it's sleave

Not fucking with the jones'es, I guess that I been jones'en so much

Nothing gets noticed but the mess

And I'm smokin' my stress through and empty beer can

And it goes one Minnesota, two Minnesota, three

And Atmosphere.....