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This song is by P.O.S. and appears on the album Never Better (2009).

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Don't let 'em get a handful, see 'em with a handle of jack
Or crossed fingers on the hands behind their back
With a knack to trust then disrupt
Lose trust then change the rules up

And who's up for tax cuts? (crime pays)
Hidden estates with like, really long driveways
Crime pays, rats in the hallways
Aim for the crack, fuck minimum wage, it goes

Anyways, sippin' on a dry gin
Heavy headed living in and out of my skin
And living livid, but glad for the chance at all
Glass full of gas with a rag in the other hand

Wild like the Taliban
Wild like a child slapped in the grin
Black be the skin
Packed full of carbon and starving again, c'mon

There's eyes in the back of my head

Hold up, the buck stops disintegrating here (yeah, right)
The fear generator's here, y'all (warmer)
Deviating clear past the consumer
Room for improvement, trade space with some doom and gloom

Renovate with the renegade, skate like the centigrade dropped
Consider the cold copped, like a motorcade
And roll away contagious and infect the vacant
Good the fuck gracious

Gotta debase the basic, erase the face lift
Taste a bad case of the breaks and heal
Gotta create the makeshift, swagger like its yours and
Debate whatever you don't feel

And don't come, "Knock knock." "Who there?"
Boo, boo-hooing
Live a little better than a bad joke, who ruins
Chew through your wrist, come on, let's do it, let's go

There's eyes in the back of my head
I want them blinded, I want them blinded
But if I find the man who put my foot in the sand
And other heavy hearts, oh oh oh

Make it impossible to cleanse his sins
So unforgettable, so unforgettable
Ee-oh oh oh
Ee-oh oh oh

There's eyes in the back of my head

Written by:

Stefon Alexander / Jason Shevchuk Wikipedia16


Taliban Wikipedia16

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