Lyrics
(Around
10:15
this
morning)
(A
shot
rang
out
at
the
Home
Depot)
(In
King
of
Prussia)
(In
the
electrical
products
aisle)
(42-year-old
...)
(Was
shot
and
critically
wounded
in
the
stomach)
(He
collapsed
near
the
front
of
the
store)
(Before
he
was
MedEvac'd)
(To
Hahnemann
Hospital
in
Philadelphia)
(He
told
police
who
shot
him)
(And
gave
them
a
description)
(Police
have
been
called
here
time-and-again)
(The
quell
the
heated
conflicts)
(Both
parties,
in
fact,
have
been
arrested
in
recent
months)
(As
...'s
truck
was
being
hauled)
(From
the
Home
Depot
parking
lot
late
today)
(Police
were
still
trying
to
sort
all
of
this
out)
I
don't
preach
teachers
I
survive
seizures
and
fill
bleachers
Turn
a
broken
glass
world
into
mosaics
of
pretty
girls
And
cut
my
lips
on
the
first
kiss
of
the
church
mural
So
now
I
leave
emcees
sea-sick
like
the
Tilt-A-Whirl
And
you
don't
rock
like
I
rock
So
don't
try
it
And
you
wouldn't
like
my
CD
So
don't
buy
it
'Cause
I
see
the
clowns
you
nod
your
head
to
Ride
around
while
you
gobble
down
The
products
that
they
tell
to
you
Like
first
they
turned
you
robot,
now
you
vacuum
Suck,
suck,
success
is
achieving
our
goals
By
focusing
on
core
objectives
and
crushing
the
ball
I
Pack
Mad
Symptoms
you
couldn't
cure
with
Midol
And
I
don't
brag
or
talk
shit
but
now
and
then
I
go
off
'Cause
every
time
I
had
to
swallow
my
pride
and
fall
in
line
I
follow
those
same
guys
outside
and
make
'em
'pologize
With
a
lead
pipe
mic
stand
and
a
batter's
box
stance
I
get
more
even
than
balanced
equations
in
high
math
(Was
he
resisting?)
(Uh,
not,
not
at
first)
(He
kept
saying,
"I'm
the
victim.
I'm
the
victim.")
(But,
uh,
he
had
a
weapon)
Lyricist,
imperialist
Area
51
escape
artist
Optimist,
prime,
realist
State
facts
Take
that
and
run
with
it
Artificial
artifacts
in
one's
past
Make
bitch
rap
for
rich
sales
figures
Go
and
figure
that
Mimic
all
the
copycats
And
beat
dead
horse
for
talking
back
That
means
you
I'll
hand-address
a
letter-bomb
envelope
Put
my
first
record
in
for
good
measure
Mail
it,
hope
you
get
the
joke
Send
skill
through
subconscious
isotopes
And
signal
smoke
Watch
'em
try
to
rhyme
along
and
fucking
choke
And
I
don't
wanna
work
at
Depot
no
more
9 to
5,
8 to
4
My
apron's
full
of
holes
and
torn
Helping
people
on
the
floor
Working
for
these
fucking
whores
They
want
J.
Moore
to
go
explore
the
back
and
be
a
janitor
I
made
ten
dollars
The
government
kept
three
Took
my
seven
bucks,
bought
a
second-hand
CD
Another
fifty
cents
sales
tax
on
top
of
that
Got
me
digging
in
my
car
seat
cracks
No
wonder
I'm
strapped
Got
some
dude
in
my
face
and
my
boss
on
my
back
Got
so
much
on
my
mind
I
can't
even
rock
a
hat
I'm
dreaming
about
pressing
new
vinyl
But
instead
I'm
pushing
floor
tile
To
these
reptiles
in
the
carpet
aisle
Expecting
me
to
smile
like
some
clown
'Til
I
cut
'em
down
so
nasty
they
open
X-Files
on
me
(Shot
rang
out
at
the
Home
Depot)
(I'm
the
victim,
I'm
the
victim)
(Shot
rang
out
at
the
Home
Depot)
(I'm
the
victim,
I'm
the
victim)
(Shot
rang
out
at
the
Home
Depot)
(I'm
the
victim,
I'm
the
victim)
Indie
rap,
mainstream,
alternative,
underground
Call
it
what
you
wanna
call
it
Top
is
gonna
hold
it
down
I
found
my
album
in
the
store
in
the
rock
n'
roll
section
And
I'm
still
moving
units
out
the
front
end
I
got
lyrics
like
Shakespeare
and
Morrisette
had
crazy
sex
And
she
popped
some
freestylin'
triplets
I
bang
the
beats
like
a
jackhammer
operator
Kick
drum
holes
in
the
street
Like
moon
craters
Ahead
of
my
time
with
a
prematurely
aged
mind
I
drop
the
gloves
when
I'm
on
the
mic
and
go
for
mine
I
turn
blank
stares
to
highly
animated
individuals
Who
stand
up
in
the
face
of
ridicule
Like,
"Fuck
you!"
Trash
talk
makes
garbage
records
What'd
you
ever
say
besides
claiming
you're
the
best
at
this?
Hype
like
the
first
time
you
touched
a
breast-a-sis
Your
rap
maturity
is
five
grades
behind
the
rest
of
us
My
reputation
for
rhyming
spreads
like
wildfire
Hit
'em
like
Andy
Kaufman
with
a
pile
driver
Without
the
fake
part
Cut
'em
like
Braveheart
Raise
the
bar
so
far
they
can't
chin
up
It's
too
hard
Now
my
cell
phone
is
ringing
Getting
paged
on
the
intercom
People
always
yelling
at
me
Totally
unnecessary
Wanna
be
the
straw
that
breaks
the
camel's
headset?
It's
Russian
roulette
So
go
ahead
and
day
wrecked
(I
would
say
he
seemed
confused)
(He
seemed
disoriented)
(He
seemed
shocked)
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