It’s the caffeine, the nicotine, the milligrams of tar.
It’s my habitat, it needs to be cleaned, it’s my car.
It’s the fast talk they use to abuse and feed my brain.
It’s the cat box, it needs to be changed, it’s the pain.
It’s women, it’s the plight for power, it’s government.
It’s the way you’re given knowledge, slow with thought control and subtle hints.
It’s rubbing it, it’s itching it, it’s applying cream.
It’s the foreigners sightseeing with high beams, it’s in my dreams.
It’s the monsters that I conjure, it’s the marijuana.
It’s embarrassment, displacement, it’s where I wander.
It’s my genre, it’s Madonna’s videos.
It’s game shows, it’s cheap liquor, blunts, and bumper stickers with rainbows.
It’s angels, demons, gods, it’s the white devils.
It’s the monitors, the soundman, it’s the motherfucking mic levels.
It’s gas fumes, fast food, Tommy Hil’, and mommy’s pill.
Columbia House Music Club, designer drugs, and rhyming thugs.
It’s bloods, crips, fives, six.
It’s stick up kids.
It’s Christian conservative terrorists, it’s porno flicks.
It’s the east coast, no it’s the west coast.
It’s public schools, it’s asbestos.
It’s mentholated, it’s techno.
It’s sleep, life, and death.
It’s speed, coke, and meth.
It’s hay fever, pain relievers, oral sex, and smoker’s breath.
It stretches for as far as the eye can see.
It’s in the water, it’s in the air, it’s in the meat.
It’s indirect, indiscrete, inconsistent, incomplete.
It’s in the streets, every city and everywhere you go.
In every man it’s the insanity, the fantasy, the casualties.
It’s the health care system, it’s welfare victims.
It’s assault weapons, it’s television religion, and it’s false lessons.
It’s cops, police, pigs with badges, guns, and sticks.
It’s harassment and a complex you carry when you’re running shit.
It’s wondering if you get to eat, it’s the heat.
It’s the winter, the weather.
It’s herpes, and it’s forever.
It’s the virus that takes the lives of the weak and the strong.
It’s the drama that keeps on between me and my seed’s mom.
It’s that need to speak long, it’s that hunger for attention.
It’s the wack, who attack songs of redemption.
It’s prevention, It’s the first solution.
It’s loose, it’s out for retribution.
It’s mental pollution, and public execution.
It’s the nails that keep my hands and feet to these boards.
It’s the part time job that governs what you can afford.
It’s the fear, it’s the fake.
It’s clear it can make time stop.
And leave you stranded in the year of the snake.
It’s the dollar, yen, pound, it’s all denominations.
It’s hourly wages for your professional observations.
It’s on your face and it’s in your eyes.
It’s everything you be.

Cause it ain’t me, motherfucker, cause it ain’t me