(Slug)
We're travellin' a missile
Weavin' through your cornfields
Leaving behind a trail of ameteur porn and orange peels
Navigating through this basement
that masquerades as a nation
Practicing my acetate masturbation
Watching the expressions on the faces
of the ones designated to be the queens, kings, and aces
How many miles can you put on one soul
before the smile starts to blend into one big bullet hole?
(Brother Ali)
Shoot through it as a unit with the best of my crew
Pumpin' melodies and memories too
My head's killin' me (ew)
Stomach empty, my bladder is full
Two year old son with Jaybird
Phone dry and missing me (?)
And I'm starvin' I'll bite your arm off
Saber tooth tiger, run the night with the sharp claws
In your back yard just to fuck with your gaurd dogs
Throw a brick through your shit, come cut the alarm off
(Slug)
Fuck yes
I do my best to take advantage in bouts
Put one hand over the mouth
Still managing to shout
Theres more said within the lines of your forehead
Then they could ever try to fineprint on the inside of that warhead
Cross Country
Like a little lost junkie
Make 'em hot and jumpy
Trying to get that God money
Steering the van through the blizzards, the fanfare
Pivot when we visit
Spit victim if you stand there
(Brother Ali)
Check your map of this picture, throw a dart at it
That's where
We took a room back for the kids and through a heart at it
Angry like a hostage
Kickin' like a little bitch in one of Dibbs' moshpits
Shifting through your city limits, trying to find the raw shit
Thread a needle with it and weave a world of heads together
'Til we get em carsick
Face full of war paint, strapped ready for action
Battle cry just trying to seek the satisfaction of the captain (?)
(Slug)
Climbed over the side, closed his eyes
Took a dive into his famed inspiration for staying alive
Swam to the shore
Stepped upon land
Walked up to a whore
Grabbed her by the hand and said
Hook:
Let the wheels spin, Let the room shake, Let the speakers blow
Let the light in, Let the kids play, Let the people know
Let the roof burn, Let the girls love, Let the heat flow
Let the world turn, Let the curbs up, Cats Van Bags Yo!
(Brother Ali)
Lock eyes with a thousand people at the same time
They mind believe in us
My style of graffiti is
Reason just the midwest sweat out of my shirt
And leavin' with my life essence imbedded in your dirt
(Slug)
We work move and hustle with the rest of the gypsies
Spoon feed these issues to a new school of fishies
Swimmin' through a hazy shade of passion
Here they come, the hazled and has been'd
and his chaplin
(Brother Ali)
Thats them the migrant seasonal workers
The finest imperial wordsmiths on the circuit
two million smiles and runnin'
Stompin' tryin to flee the heat
Turn around shootin' at the monster 'til he's knees are weak
(Slug)
They call me Jesus Freak
I came to listen
Then I save you
Then I make you my favorite position
Chasing this pidgeon down the street towards the banks
Just in case my my traffic recieves Jeeps and tanks
(Both)
And we wander through this soul
So let it be known
Mama I dont know if I'm a ever be home
The revolution wont have any distribution
(Slug)
I love my son and my music so I gotta keep it movin like
Hook
Atmosphere is a hip-hop duo consisting of Ant and Slug, hailing from Minnesota. Active since 1991, they are considered pioneers of the Midwest hip-hop underground for their unique style that blends rap and soul. Their productions often explore introspective themes such as everyday life, alienation, and the search for meaning. Some of their most representative tracks include "God Loves Ugly", "Modern Man's Blues" and "Kanye West". The album "Overcast!" from 2003 is considered a turning point in their career, solidifying their underground success.
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