[Verse 1: Sickly Sid]
The final song of the night
In Florida, the formula for a secret weapon's taken flight
Catch a new supervillain team symbol in sight
It's the signal for Sickly Rats to break out and fright
Catch us on the roof of a label, they in danger
We bringing down the house, a hoedown, Texas Rangers
Double cupped and stuffed to the brim, no help from angels
Only help from devils, the event arranger
Swift change from being loved and appreciated
The labels tell us wе're too R-rated, sound too frustrated
Our vеntings they want vacated, it's not even debated
Removed from our roster, we're thrown out on our heads
Back to using benches and streetlamps as pillows and beds
As much as we've been saying we been abused and we're sick
I'd be choosing to do this exclusively just for music
Live and breathe lyrics and beats, they the voices I be hearing
In school, looked at like I got too many things creeping in my brain
When really I'd let the tunes do the speaking
Sickly Rats last performance on the roof
Don't let us to your venue 'less the windows are shatter-proof
After this last joint, we're jumping off the roof like a belly flop to a pool
Like Andy Kaufman always wanted to show you his death in front of you
This is for all the lost legends taken by corporate snakes
Scrape up the combustion of our impacted heads with rakes
Sickly Sid on the mic, I got rat traps for fakes
[Verse 2: Khada]
Heaven sake, I been given grace
If you wanna be big, in any second you're too late
Toppin off my brain with some metal, on the pedal
Speeding down the road, spitting shit from the kettle
This is just my battle between morals and the money
Does it really matter? Jump the ladder like a bunny
Trap snapped onto my tail, trail down with it dragging
Never lasting, back been out for the lashings
Doing this shit for Phife, been doing it for X
Doing it for Bushwick, in royalty they rest
Best bet they jest cause they zealous
Jealous cause they can't make jack shit
Well, if a label come up to me, you know imma turn it down
I won't sign my soul just to make the rounds
I won't ever simplify my sound, right
[Verse 3: Sickly Sid & Khada]
Once was Expired Music, now we the new classics
Here to send panics and shiver the spines of masses
Wrapping up the plastic artists making static
And tossing them for spastic art that's fantastic
That's fantastic, got my tongue so spastic
Yea the lines are drastic, but at least I don't mask it
This took some practice, but now I got some tactics
Find us like Death in an attic, don't combat it
[Hook: Khada & Sickly Sid]
Won't sign my soul, won't sign my soul
And once I'm dead, won't let it go
That's how I'll know, that's how I'll know
That's how I'll know, that's how I'll know
The final song of the night
In Florida, the formula for a secret weapon's taken flight
Catch a new supervillain team symbol in sight
It's the signal for Sickly Rats to break out and fright
Catch us on the roof of a label, they in danger
We bringing down the house, a hoedown, Texas Rangers
Double cupped and stuffed to the brim, no help from angels
Only help from devils, the event arranger
Swift change from being loved and appreciated
The labels tell us wе're too R-rated, sound too frustrated
Our vеntings they want vacated, it's not even debated
Removed from our roster, we're thrown out on our heads
Back to using benches and streetlamps as pillows and beds
As much as we've been saying we been abused and we're sick
I'd be choosing to do this exclusively just for music
Live and breathe lyrics and beats, they the voices I be hearing
In school, looked at like I got too many things creeping in my brain
When really I'd let the tunes do the speaking
Sickly Rats last performance on the roof
Don't let us to your venue 'less the windows are shatter-proof
After this last joint, we're jumping off the roof like a belly flop to a pool
Like Andy Kaufman always wanted to show you his death in front of you
This is for all the lost legends taken by corporate snakes
Scrape up the combustion of our impacted heads with rakes
Sickly Sid on the mic, I got rat traps for fakes
[Verse 2: Khada]
Heaven sake, I been given grace
If you wanna be big, in any second you're too late
Toppin off my brain with some metal, on the pedal
Speeding down the road, spitting shit from the kettle
This is just my battle between morals and the money
Does it really matter? Jump the ladder like a bunny
Trap snapped onto my tail, trail down with it dragging
Never lasting, back been out for the lashings
Doing this shit for Phife, been doing it for X
Doing it for Bushwick, in royalty they rest
Best bet they jest cause they zealous
Jealous cause they can't make jack shit
Well, if a label come up to me, you know imma turn it down
I won't sign my soul just to make the rounds
I won't ever simplify my sound, right
[Verse 3: Sickly Sid & Khada]
Once was Expired Music, now we the new classics
Here to send panics and shiver the spines of masses
Wrapping up the plastic artists making static
And tossing them for spastic art that's fantastic
That's fantastic, got my tongue so spastic
Yea the lines are drastic, but at least I don't mask it
This took some practice, but now I got some tactics
Find us like Death in an attic, don't combat it
[Hook: Khada & Sickly Sid]
Won't sign my soul, won't sign my soul
And once I'm dead, won't let it go
That's how I'll know, that's how I'll know
That's how I'll know, that's how I'll know
( Sickly Rats )
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