Procrastinator - Lyrics - Baba Brinkman

I'm a procrastinator, planning to act later A chronic nap-taker and chronicle narrator A fact-stator chasing some honest rap pay-dirt I'm a sonic blast maker, a foundation shaker Creating a half-acre-wide impact crater I'm a rhyme saturator, a mad saber-rattler Afraid of his shadow, a unilateral hate-battler A snake-handler, original gate-straddler Balancing eight platters of words on a straight ladder Plus, to make matters worse, surrounded by fake flatterers Any mistakes happen just call me a plate-shatterer Information-gathering station conductor I'm shaken up worse than World Trade Center structures Reluctant to say that I've just been taken upwards By alien abductors, my face covered for days With suction-cup clusters; there ain't enough words To explain the pain I've suffered; my brain is ruptured I need to be chained up and fed some plain custard If that doesn't work, and I remain flustered And labeled insane, then take me to shock therapy And tell the doctors there to be careful and not bury me And when it stops, carry me to the lobotomy chair And keep me there until I'm cheerful as a cocky parakeet Polly wanna shot of narcotics for thought-clarity? My popularity drops – it's probably a conspiracy Apparently when I talk someone at the top's scared of me I'm not paranoid; don't offer me charity I don't want steroids; my body is very weak I only shave my hairy cheeks once every week And I can barely speak, my throat is so dry It's no surprise though; I've been high my whole life So I go try to flow nice at shows and it's no dice And most nights I ghost-write lyrics to cold light And grow spiteful of my previous oversights As greedy as cobras’ bites when I hold this mic Obese, dressed in vertical-striped Obelix tights Beats like these might backfire like motorbikes And catch fire, shoulder spikes and fat tires I'm a bad liar, a critic satisfier Turning higher learning into passionate desire So hook this black wire to the amplifier And get blasted by a verbal crack supplier To the buyer: I never criticize a rap addict's cries I give 'em safe injection sites to protect their rights But I'll make 'em sweat tonight, and exercise To inject some excitement into stressed-out lives It’s like all depression gets left outside As I bless the mic and leave the rest how it lies