Hacker

Hey, no ins and outs
You come out, your shit is gone, bitch
Goin' back to Tangier with some Jordans and a spear
Post-Christian shit, post-chicken-or-the-egg-addiction shit
Pass the sherm stick, Neo-reality
Be the freak you wanna see, just don’t follow me
I’m on a journey to the center of three
Grab your fucking chain and drag you through the bike lane
While everybody’s like (Nooooo!)
I got this pregnant snake; stay surrounded by long hairs
A plethora of maniacs and spiral stairs
Make your water break in the Apple Store
Sink or swim, who fucking cares, cut the birth cords
Press send, yeah, thick
Gaga can’t handle this shit, headed for the Sammy Davis wing
Throw up a black hole at the entrance of Linens-n-Things
On the way, never call it a day
Visit Tesla’s grave for the ninth time today
Still on the way, bigger wigs
When you come out, your shit is gone
When you come out, your shit is gone
When you come out, your shit is gone
When you come out, your shit is gone
I’m in your area, I’m in your area
I’m in your area, I’m in your area
I know the first three numbers, I’m in—
I know the first three numbers, I’m in—
I’m in your area, I’m in your area
I’m in your area, I’m in your area
I know the first three numbers, I’m in—
I know the first three numbers, I’m in—
When you come out, your shit is gone
When you come out, your shit is gone (I'm in—)
When you come out, your shit is gone
When you come out, your shit is gone
You’ll catch a jpeg to the head, über reach
You’re an intern, I’m Wikileaks
Most loved, therefore most hated
Come and knock on the door, we’ve been waiting for you
Game changer, reclusive-aggressive
Ying-ing and yang-ing, noided
Info warrior, Jack the Hacker
The rolling stoner, puffin' on disaster
My existence is a momentary lapse of reason
Got the DNA of gothic lemons
Shred it thirteen times out of eleven
Your bad ideas are the ATM, shed my skin
Leave it for the homeless to sleep in
Prodigal, fuck that, nautical
Teachin' bitches how to swim (I'm in—)
I’m in your area, I’m in your area
I’m in your area, I’m in your area
I know the first three numbers, I’m in—
I know the first three numbers, I’m in—
I’m in your area, I’m in your area
I’m in your area, I’m in your area
I know the first three numbers, I’m in—
I know the first three numbers, I’m in—
Teachin' bitches how to swim
Teachin' bitches how to swim (I'm in—)
Teachin' bitches how to swim
Teachin' bitches how to swim
Now backstroke, through your k-hole
Don’t run, you might slip
The table’s flipped, now we got all the coconuts, bitch
Burmese babies under each arm
Screaming beautiful songs
The cray-cray ultra-contrarian
Havin' conversations with your car alarm
When you come out, your shit is gone
Soon your crew will be serving sandwiches named after me
Vietnamese style, fool, please
Front row at the mass games, untraceable by name
You speak of us in certain circles, you will be dethroned or detained
Gone, gone
Your shit is gone, gone
When you come out, your shit is gone
I’m in your area, I’m in your area
I’m in your area, I’m in your area
I know the first three numbers, I’m in—
I know the first three numbers, I’m in—
I’m in your area, I’m in your area
I’m in your area, I’m in your area
I know the first three numbers, I’m in—
I know the first three numbers