Themselves Crosssection Of Wreckage (feat. Alias And Dj Andrew) lyrics

Crosssection Of Wreckage (feat. Alias And Dj Andrew) by Themselves

Crosssection Of Wreckage lyrics (feat. Alias And Dj Andrew)

we don't believe in weak spot 
for every cheap shot you got 
we hold a mirror to your blind spot 
your throat holds artificial words 
spewing garbage lines out to the headliners herds 
a puppet to your own disappointment 
your big ego�ed mouth is a fly in the ointment 
This ain't no rap and all name 
All act and no pain 
drag around our honesty 
like a ball and a chain 
take a bullet for these two no question 
you flake on labelmates at a managers suggestion 
now who's the better man? 
who's got the better plan? 
freinds for life or fleeting fame leaving you with less 
than? 
Throw the throat that golds the cope that slows hope 
In the blood 
Cold in the drug 
Tow of show 
And no 
Thing 
But owe 
One wing and stole 
got no answer but you got a perfect shrug 
to 
Throw the throat that golds the cope that slows hope 
In the blood 
Cold in the drug 
Tow of show 
And no 
Thing 
But owe 
One wing and stole 
Like coffee goes coal in the give of your guts 
Dues polluting how you dust to dust and skull touch 
Diesel in the weight of your words 
Credo in the wish that you serve 
Eye teeth to the curb of age 
Blues thief in a serge of days 
Of sun over flesh 
And Cease over breath 



Spitting light from a cracked rock 
Supporting life with your back stock 
watched wall clock never turns 
gotta push big and little hands to shape what you earn 
the law of diminishing returns 
is all death and taxes 
it's finna happen 
till that day we stay button pushing and rapping 
all of these poems take place in the space between 
various bills 
on the edge of a bed or the wiles of a fool hero's 
cloud black and clear head 
best digested in a pair of 100 dollar headphones 
or in a divebar on the back of a microphone 
You can't go eye for an eye 
Alone on yourself 
For too long you loose sight 
Begin to see yourself as death 
On the mic 
Low level life 
Poor chooser of fights 
Disbeliefer of hype 

All raw eye and no sight 
Alone in the light of your death on the mic 
Or the sword of poor choice in life 
Disbelief and diffuse hypes 

This is yet another record about we and our littleing 
Something sensitive and neked out of song that we�re 
widdleing 
Bigger than the middle man up 
You is or you isn�t 
A thing of fragile or a cross section of wreckage 
to which our living clings