Y’all want to see tits and ass,   Street grit and sass   As beatniks smoking grass on holiday   -You know what we want-    You’re looking for a grievance to mask, preferably with a fetus in the trash   While you eat quiche and laugh on the Champs-Elysee   -You know what we want-   I’m not down with that B-list staff,   As they yell out Jesus at mass   I’ll be laughing while I knead this mish-mash of pottery clay   -You know what we want-   An appropriated grease-slick slab, posted up as a meat stick add   But I make the average moviegoer too seasick and sad   -You know what we want-   And I’m too caustic to run, for office or be expunged   For my agnostic plunge   -You know what we want-   So what I’ve accomplish and done, is viewed as an off-setted pun   By the posh and young tastemakers   -You know what we want-   An overdone tame premise,   I jump from the plane wreckage   Unscaved yet sunbathed in the rigors of a bass pluck   -You know what we want-   Pop culture’s lame vestiges, I’m an ordained pessimist   With hippie-qualms and   sticky bombs to deter the tank-truck   I’m good for a belly laugh   Covered in a blanket of ash   Leaving with an ankle cast   But sometimes I feel that…      I don’t have what you want   So won’t you accept my humble offerings   Broken TV sets as ethereal driftwood   When you’re on the plan alive with water wings    You’ll think,   ‘I didn’t know surrendering felt this good’   I don’t have what you want   So won’t you accept my humble offerings      They want semantics and sniveling   Grams to sniff on a triple-beam   To be hand-picked for a little scene   In a student film   All I have is pamphlets full of liberal zing   Antihistamines in a syringe-sling   A shanty for this fitted king   Of uprooted elm   And they’ve been given solar-powered cars   Trail mix and power bars   Upturned tarot cards   They want to be heralded by wishful teens   In stretch-Hummers and limousines   They’re beyond medicinal means   -You know what we want-   But I gave them a protagonist   The color of cinnamon and mahogany   filtered through award-winning cinematography   And the motherfucking discography of a G   If you don’t like it then kick rocks   I’m pre-history’s disc-jock   Yeah, I know what you wanted homie   but I never had the shit in-stock      I don’t have what you want   So won’t you accept my humble offerings   Broken TV sets as ethereal driftwood   When you’re on the plane alive with water wings   You’ll think,   ’I didn’t know surrendering felt this good’   I don’t have what you want   So won’t you accept my humble offerings…