A historical - you think this shit just dropped right out of the sky My analysis: it's time to harvest the crust from your eyes To surge and refine, to rage and define Ourselves against your line So sorry, friend, but you must resign You want to figure it out? We'll throw down, we'll throw down You want to figure it out? Well, throw down your bulldog front Bold bold mouthtalking Not so bold now that you've eaten your own lips Flecked, mouthspecked, you strip the skin right off of the bone And i would never say you act without precision or care But, it's all attention to armor, to the armor you wear So, well, let's knock and check to see if there's somebody home