www.NightRally.com
South Pacific pt. II
Look at those eyes, look at those lofty eyes
We got people from the hip-hop state
We put the shit on tape--oops, I mean acetate
And I look at those eyes
I look at those lonely eyes
We got pupils doused with perfume
We got cornucopic corneas

And it comes from me to you
Humor is Non Sequitur
Selected elation for representation
It's the same, "I can't explain"
Sister's scared of the mezzanine
She says the mise-en-scene comes beneath not between
It's the same, "I can't explain"

I'll spell this measure out in ABC's
Since the previous verse was oh-so rehearsed
It's the same, "I can't explain"
P-R-E-S-E-N-T-LY we speak the words we see
But the scene's the decree
It's the same, "I can't explain"

Feel the dawn come in cool, and baby she says
Pick a place for the duel, and baby she says

Start a vacation, we've got a vocation
It's the same, "I can't explain"
Take the T down to Robert E. Lee
Let these grade school rules let us act the fool
It's the same, "I can't explain"
The Day Devin Pissed Blood
You're telling your weight too soon
With your feet outside the catwalk, feeling so far
You've given away too few
Of the half-pent sacks that have burdened you so far
When you laid your tracks in a streetlamp pact with the echoes
Did you raise your past for the ghettoes?
And if you changed your line when you signed your name on the dotted,
Could you save your laugh, with your head thrown back,
And keep grinning at the show?

We got cheat sheets for action
We got cheat sheets for kiss-and-tell (What it is and what it was)
We got cheap seats for "satisfaction"
We got cheap seats for "rebel yell" (You'll never know, you never know)

You gave it to us four on the floor
But now we don't wanna dance no more
A Birthday Party:
We're throwing baby a birthday party
Got candles and tigers make pictures we'll talk about
But my baby, she don't come out (Make a wish... c'mon)
We dress like cows and we dress like fairies
Ask any townsfolk and his answers'll vary
But my baby, she don't come out (We gave the gift that keeps on)

I am a master P.A.

Crank it up

My baby's mom asked me to spend the night
We're gonna kick the cat out and then we're gonna catfight
But my baby, she don't come out (Make a wish... c'mon)
A glass of water filled with gold dubloons
Makes us take off our masks and take of our costumes
But my baby, she don't come out (We gave the gift that keeps on)

These hands don't shake for all the arms we raise
So tell all the pitbulls to put all their pistols down
We've bulletproofed the birthday suits; the weighted skin has fallen loose
So call all the tailors, and tell all the prisoners,
"If you can't keep the roof off the heels of your shoes,
It's a shame 'cause you did it to yourself
If it's all just a ruse with the powder and rouge,
Take the blame," because I've had it up to here

Say you do, say you don't
Say you will, say you won't
Plug it in and crank it up
It's much too much, so pull the plug