hook:
twinn zeus be the don
you know that prof. be the don
so let the earth shake for you and yours
by dawn (go!)

Twinn Zeus:
Burly and tight lipped, short fuse with a switch, that stays flipped, use words like a pile of leaves over a spiked pit, tongue slick like a precision pressure point hit to the armpit, that’s lightning quick, jam a circle in your square and make it fit, pass against the blitz, master in the pocket, lock-on when boxed in, with enough promises to make a false God quit, funny how making parallels to a prophet, nets fish and loaves at a new low for stock options, resistance is futile, in the future denial, allows for the assimilation of vowels in the meanwhile, let’s put an end to the persistence of the reptilian instance, of vermillion tinted pigment, don’t hide behind the hind legs of a decision, I’ve hinted at this tension in abstract form.

hook:
twinn zeus be the don
you know that prof. be the don
so let the earth shake for you and yours
by dawn (go!)

Prof.:
playing chicken with group work, the sheik can shirk all day and spend the night as a jerk off while laughing at a photo of your face, disgraced and imprisoned, the son has not yet arisen to free us from the dark, this man is better than you - his mom and dad are rich and he is better than you, so much better than you - when the camera begins sharing qualitative overrated data running for the ratings at the speed of pastorius, it’s light by mysterious and why do we care? nobody comes as they are anymore, you connect with everyone but you close every door and abandon the mind in the favor of social ardor; ignore me while I stay king of the low-key: representative of sentences reflecting shutter snaps, pin the world to my wall so I can feed you table scraps and position your television to receive bad news then take off the aluminum, awaken and begin again... let the earth shake for you...

hook:
kill the trumpet player, avengers, house of lies, iron man three, captain planet three, thirty rock, ocean’s thirteen, the united states of leland, brooklyn’s finest, roadside prophets, hotel rwanda, the dog problem, after the sunset, swordfish, devil in a blue dress, the golden palace, flight, crash! (go! go! go!)

Grant Livesay (as Twinn Chiron):
skinny with a slight lisp, patient with a blatancy streak to sink ships, pirate herding serfs from the pig roasting on a pike spit, rum sip like an incision hypo-dermal to your cerebellum, quick!,
RAM sixty-four bit in your system and make it fit: ass for the kitsch, plaster over the socket, dogs barking red rocket lipstick with enough daughters to make a false father flip, funny how posing parallels to a prophet never nets a bitch postured in fishnets, and i hope for the sex we haven’t lost you yet: raising chickens with a guillotine sponsored by the rooster’s teeth, hit it on the head less than subtle gender normativity attenuated for your attention ten hut head for timbuktu ten bucks for two tickets you and the missus with a twinn zeus tune for the listenings; checking in for blisters and a blessing from a seraphim and television harbored by aluminum amphetamines we’re christened by the cross, crux, cream and the green so sing for the lost, lust, lean and demeaned - we are all mentioned in this pension, petty and forlorn; simpletons afraid of ascension: tracked rap scorned.

(don cheadle!)