Armand Hammer, The Alchemist — Indian Summer

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Текст Armand Hammer, The Alchemist — Indian Summer

[Intro: Barry White]
You understand me?
Couldn’t read music or write it
No connections, no car, no money
No bankroll, no clothes, no nothin’
All I had was the will and the love for music

Verse 1: billy woods
I swore vengeance in the seventh grade
Not on one man, the whole human race
I’m almost done, God be praised
I’m almost done, e’ry debt gets paid
I used to cut grass and smile like I meant it
We squatted in the shade when the mowers overheated
Came home stinkin’ of gas in the evening
It wasn’t any one thing, it was the sequence
The intoxication of countin’ cash in secret
The secret hiding places where you keep it, intimate
The strip malls, the dealership
Six lanes across, shit job at the end of it
I knew what was up once they said «Come inside the office»
Palmetto bugs flutter, the size of saucers
Clumsy, fuckers spin inside they coffins
Pluckin’ guitar strings, Orpheus outside the fortress
MDC, Brooklyn, the rats is gorgin’
Kill one, only bring more and more like dead explorers
I put a neat hole in Indiana Jones’ fedora
For that Somali Torah, we lit up the night like Sodom and Gomorrah
Left out, face forward

[Interlude]
I don’t wanna disturb your thoughts
I don’t wanna disturb your mood
When I give you one that I feel you might like
I wanna make sure you get enough of it

[Verse 2: E L U C I D]
Pineapple spears on the bias, high science
Spiritual alliances, it’s a vibe, right? Gene splice
Kettle whistle, quadry Ismail with the missile
Sky face wistful, I had a fistful of fucks ground to the gristle
Conditions and stipulation, past the need for affirmation
My activation, iridescent black, back to basic
I told her «Taste it», obliged and gracious
Consent enthusiastic, splash, catch this
As if, black script, my last grift
Dumbfound myth, run wild wind, just past the line
You won’t gun down the sun, I done told you again
Stiff necked, gimme mine
Press start, supercharge, stacked deck, cut the middle, uh
Fast and pray for rain, but just a trickle
Clean your own pistol, I can’t walk them dogs with you, ah