not messin'

it's as if the fore fathers, gonna trade it for a piece, they can lick the wound slow, like they're from the northeast, they resist i'm going easy, bankin on the hearsay, but they all know the man with the co-pay, mixed up in the mid, they get the high to low rap, its a tight rope, til the rope goes slack, it'll blow your mind, but it don't get you around, i ain't messin' around. i ain't messin' around. so i got my gold parachute, turn one more left turn, with my chloroform and a monet, 'fore we can take a long ride down the narrow drive, and keep ya head down, yeah, they come and jump in, now may i ask to who you reach all the money so i, don't sell the van, can't find my, can't find my cat's got nine times, so let the poochie on the record and ya got 'em on the messin around, can we do a re-vote, backed by hard-earned job, it's hard to get to things of my own, as if i don't think, think, thinkin up and sippin on the world, he was lookin from the top look out, say preach, buy them treats, and this guy he prayed, father told them pick them on the fallen tree, father picked them off the top, and so we're getting caught up in the mountain, still no pay check. to be found, i ain't messin' around, are ya sorted?, are ya sound?, are ya sound?, are ya sound?, are ya sorted?