Recreation

track name: Recreation
album and band name: from Treat of the Day by Ghettosocks

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lyrics: It’s that kid that loves animals spittin’ those flammables, driving moms crazy like fine young cannibals. Don’t get upset ‘cause my flow’s so natural. You mad ‘cause I’m stylin’ on you all casual. These other cats are kinda jealous (must be those raps). They so humbling and bust egos fast. Is it ‘cause I got by and didn’t need no gat? Or ‘cause I roll with nine dimes like Tuxedo Mask. Either way, who’s hurtin’ kids? Who’s earning chips with a verbal gift and who’s working shifts? Who cruises on crews leaving blue-purple lips and disperses verses so superfluous? (Get ‘em Socks.) No doubt, you know we got skills, while these midgets ain’t equipped to rep the Lollipop Guild. Nah - I’ma save that for the flight ‘cause after tonight a lot of cats won’t know how to act with a mic - word.

I call this recreation. They call it desecration. Put your sweat into your rep, guess you could say I wreck creations. Without a hesitation known for blessing stages. Don’t test your fate: a blender ain’t the place you wanna rest your face in.

We’re back in effect. Another patch on the vet. Cashier cross-eyed when she cashed in the cheque. Gimme that paper ‘cause I’m past the respect (spend the kind of cash on pasta you have to for rent). Cliques rollin’ deep, we bound to get live. The Undercrown hoodie with the red and brown highs. Twenty bucks cover? Shit, I’m down to get mine. We’re dumbin’ out, thumbin’ out counterfit fives. On the dancefloor doing tai chi, sipping chai tea, chicks in knee-highs with my man Highny. Creep in a bears coat stares chinese, chinese chick stares back like ‘why me?’ Pair of eyebrows like Ming the Merciless. Josh in the whip like rings to circuses. Apt in the crates with breaks to murder kids. Bix on the beat like heat to furnaces.

I call this recreation. They call it desecration. Put your sweat into your rep, guess you could say I wreck creations. Without a hesitation known for blessing stages. Don’t test your fate: a blender ain’t the place you wanna rest your face in.

Socks rocks the populous at prosperous pace, while getting props like an octopus in octaves of eight. Not even talking to the god unless the topic is great, or get George Strombouloupolous knocked in the face homie. Strings swing like some pendulum bling: slung around somebody’s neck for the attention it brings. From potential to kinetic, guess I’m made to be king: I sway the groupies, Dave Suzuki, check the nature of things. Unbelievable rap steeze, it’s unseizable. You can’t grasp or fathom the wrath that’s unreachable. In the past assassins attacked the unbreachable, but gasped when they gulped the wrong glass: inconceivable. Kids are fit to fail let alone get the grail. Cruise around for nothin’, cousin? Stick to sippin’ ginger ale. I breeze like winter gale, leave these rappers sick and frail, ripped the Richter Scale and I was only clippin’ fingernails.

I call this recreation. They call it desecration. Put your sweat into your rep, guess you could say I wreck creations. Without a hesitation known for blessing stages. Don’t test your fate: a blender ain’t the place you wanna rest your face in.
credits: from Treat of the Day, released 10 October 2009
produced by Bix & Fresh Kils / cuts by Ghettosocks
(D. Pyper, J. Devine, A. Kilgour - SOCAN)
license: All rights reserved
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