Breaking Boundaries

I ain’t taking orders
Invade your fortress
And lace the floorboards with tape recorders
Double agent, son of Satan
Hustle dank just to pay the mortgage
Blaze a torch on a vacant porch
Then I send your girl a bouquet of orchids
Paint a portrait
Stay the course
A better name in the game never came before this
I make endorphins go bonkers
Hit the stage and pour a cold Fosters
Y’all just take your seat and don’t talk ‘cuz
All the belly achin’s making folks nauseous
Devour tablets in the mouth of madness
Put your disk in the trash with the brown bananas
Prowl about town
And the hound dogs found cadavers in the backwoods around your campus
Grrr, my team malicious
Eating liquids on a piece of licorice
Keep your distance
Seeing visions
Sneak a mistress then meet the Mrs.
Read my lips, bitch
I’m all that and a bag of chips with a slice of pizza
Nice to meet ya
Life’s a beach, yeah
Take charge, slide your visa
Master card
Crash your car shortly after I ask to borrow it
Pack of parliaments
K Billy super sound finna slash apart your elastic cartilage
Mr. Blonde, Victor Vega
Box of redbull, fifth of jager
Wicked nature
Get it straight, I won’t hesitate to eliminate ya

Swing and throw like Ichiro
See more snow than ski patrol
‘Till my nose bleeds
Then I smoke trees
‘Till the hosts screams, “Yo! You need to go!”
Flow like hemoglobin
Feed me rolls until it eats a hole through my stomach lining
Steal your hoes
I’m up all night won’t shut my eyes ‘till the sun is shining
Get this, business thugs in your district
Children equipped with guns and ballistics
Blood isn’t thick as a wig when it splits
Another mother’s son
But he’s nothing but a number
With a hit with a slug a convicted you’re just a statistic
Government witness, hunting a clip
Best run for the hills
With a bunch of prescription drugs in your system
Them kids live a life in shambles
Been gripping it by the handles
Finna leave they victim’s family
In a vigil lighting candles
Live from Chicago
High from the pot smoke
Dodging the 5-0
Nah the Gestapo
At the mount put it down for my town
While your clowning around on some Ronald McDonald
The misinterpreted missing person
Sip and swerve with a fifth of bourbon
I’ll drift in a hearse while spittin’ a verse
Because the kids prefer the explicit version
Issue the firm just to gyp the merchant
Gets disturbing when it hits the nerve
It’ll get your squirming
It’ll get much worse when the pigs with permits come digging for dirt

People are taking the piss out of you everyday. They butt into your life, take a cheap shot at you and then disappear. They leer at you from tall buildings and make you feel small. They make flippant comments from buses that imply you’re not sexy enough and that all the fun is happening somewhere else. They are on TV making your girlfriend feel inadequate. They have access to the most sophisticated technology the world has ever seen and they bully you with it. They are The Advertisers and they are laughing at you.

You, however, are forbidden to touch them. Trademarks, intellectual property rights and copyright law mean advertisers can say what they like wherever they like with total impunity.

Fuck that. Any advert in a public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It’s yours to take, re-arrange and re-use. You can do whatever you like with it. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head.

You owe the companies nothing. Less than nothing, you especially don’t owe them any courtesy. They owe you. They have re-arranged the world to put themselves in front of you. They never asked for your permission, don’t even start asking for theirs.