[Verse One: P.O.S.] I ain't like ya'll, I'm into weird shit I'm in the back getting weird with my weird friends Hugging the bass line, Hopin' you feel this And these rhymes ain't tight, they are terrorish And that girl's not white, she's an anarchist And we float like kites through your turbulence Born our throats slit Self-stitched raised to aim...Learn More