Why The Black Eyed Peas refused to assign me as their lyricist.

Shooting bullets at my eyes. There's a flame inside.

Scorching my mind as I go.

Brainwaves of the dead pass right through you,

And you wont know when you're gonna go.

It's like a monster unleashed. A corporate one.

With a briefcase and a suit and shit.

Entrepreneurs big and small. Eat em all. Every bloody bit.

I live for the day when knocking yourself out literally means what it says.

Chop your fingers. Dip them in hot chocolate. It's a finger-lickin craze.

The melody of your remedy has turned my wallaby into a Kennedy wannabe.

It's just wordplay with senseless things to say that would make sense to the mindless.

How random things pop in your mind.

How agitation turns to bullshit.

When I'm down and I make you frown, don't worry and don't give a shit.

It's me. How I am.

If I hate you, I'll stab you right in the chest.

If I love you, I'd take a stab in the chest for you.

Cuz you're my intoxicant.
So sue me.