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​mr. master - ​character assassination كلمات الأغنية

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[prod. by mr. master]

[intro: dinah sh0r- & pat boone & (mr. master)]
hey, have you heard about the crazy new way
to send a message today?
it’s flashed on a screen too quick to see
but still you get it subliminally
(smoke)

[intro: mr. master]
(switch it), (back once again), etc

[verse 1: mr. master]
gangway. masked up. bank safe banged up
blank slate. back on my bully
park place. parked up. park sp-ce marked up
car chase. g-ssed it up fully
swing batter batter. big data -n-lytic tracker
winds of santa ana keep tryna push me
sauce out the woodwork. sauce on my good shirt
sauce on exhibit. come have a look see and do your dance
another schizo track for you sycophants
i got psycho fans tryna mail me anthrax
thanks so much but i’ma send those back
i got a d-ck so big, i almost ripped my pants
i got a b-tch so thick, i had to ditch my plans
i don’t rap like that but i bet i can
if all these fake nerds tryna get in jedi stances. i’m sayin’
on me. knight templar priest
they just found a dead mouse in the penthouse suite
i just fell for the girl behind the counter that sells me weed
like if you’re interested at all, then tell me, please
squad full of wunderkinds. blast with the blunderbuss
sky like a thunderstorm. crash right in front of us
pale in comparison. that’s straight up embarr-ssing
what a failure of the american education experiment
no crackin’? then no omelettes
no life after death so it’s no conscience
no reason to not so i go all in
no laughs from the crowd. who’s the joke on then?
get out the bricks, the stones, the sticks
the poor, the rich, adults and kids. the world at war
the third, the fourth, the fifth
the minor fall, the major lift
the devils won. the angels p-ssed
pattin’ my head and i’m rubbin’ my belly at the same d-mn time
what? you got a mixtape? everyone got a mixtape
i’m tryna commit copyright crime. watch out!
talk about a rap sheet
i walk onto the football court and try to p-ss as an athlete
wait. i’d probably get my -ss beat
i walk into the chess club meeting after cl-ss with the math geeks
there
there, there. har har
tauntaun. jar jar. star wars
hardcore parkour. faja
gabor. zsa zsa
offsh0r-. crude oil
gavagin’ the foie gras
long jog with some clogs on
boss cutting costs off the loss on the profit margin
and won’t stop ‘til the whole plot falls apart

[chorus: mr. master]
oh, you thinkin’ that you livin’ makes a difference?
like you got the one true answer to end all questions of interest
right. whatever you say
oh, you thinkin’ that you livin’ makes a difference?
like you know the way things are and the way things should be to fix this
sure. whatever you say
oh, you thinkin’ that you livin’ makes a difference?
talkin’ like you’re anything more than a dot within all of existence
yeah, yeah, yeah man. whatever you say
oh, you thinkin’ that you livin’ makes a difference?
yellin’ at the top of your lungs into sp-ce like there’s anybody
listenin’
yeah right. whatever you say

[outro: mr. master]
oh, you thinkin’ that you livin’ makes a difference?
(whatever you say)

[outro: john weidman & mr. master]
we go from that -ss-ssination to a street corner where sam byck
the man who tried to hijack a plane to drop on richard nixon
is sitting in a santa claus suit and talking into a tape recorder
sending a personal message to leonard bernstein
this monologue is funny
this is a lunatic monlogue, and will play as such
but the actor who is doing it
must never ever lost sight of the reality of it
byck is very intensely and seriously trying
to communicate with leonard bernstein
and it’s that serious intent that will make the monologue work
will make it funny, and also should make it a little horrifying.

- mr master

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