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lirik lagu prophets for profit – hipgnostic

ayo they call me hipgnostic
my rhymes are toxic
lines are caustic
minds i toss ’em to the microcosm
you a prophet for profit
tryin’ to box with a god
when you’re f-ckin’ arm isn’t long enough
to palm the glock in your pocket
you be walkin’ with targets
i’m a martial artist and marksman
i’ll feed your fakeness and jargon
to the evil snake in the garden
i’ll enlargen the margins
for which your hardened heart’s starvin’ for
you mission is startin’ wars
you’re wishin’ on stars for more
fixated on mars and storms on jupiter
karma’s course is looming upon us
forcing loops within dharma’s source
i’ll make ya ponder your life
like sonder, creating a type
of quaint hypnotic delight
you just faking it like your f-ckin’ goblinesque wife
if your gospel was right
who needs a hospital, right?
man… that’s comedy
ya gotta be a dummy
wantin’ to drop all that money
on a knot in your tummy
when your god could just come
bring you a cure once he’s done feeding
the billions of hungry in the filthiest countries

ya f-ckin’ prophets for profit
ya f-ckin’ prophets for profit
ya f-ckin’ prophets for profit
ain’t nuttin’ but goblins with top hats
while they’re gobblin’ your hog sh-t
i’m rockin’ logic like spock did

ya f-ckin’ prophets for profit

(prophets for profit
p-p-p-prophets for profit…)

i got the “holy sh-t you’re stupid” blues
new groups of screws coming loose
these f-ckin’ flatheads
who choose to -ssume half-dead truths
they consumed from youtube
as a cia ruse
to see who can be used, abused and fooled
into losing the perceptions
that glue their misconceptions to truth
they aggressively peruse the web
for clues of clandestine blueprints
investing belief in who hints best
at regressive methods
on how you should think
these illusions are weak
my confusion has piqued
there’s no excuse
for this “brink-of-schizophrenic” theory

brotha, the earth ain’t a plane
is you f-ckin’ insane?
maybe your brain’s just untrained
but ain’t no way you can claim
that the world isn’t curved
it’s obvious she’s a girl
you’re oblivious
to 3rd-dimensional ways to observe
if it was a fact it was flat
on a fat turtle’s back
and we were trapped like a rat
under a cap made of gl-ss
you can bet your dumb-ss
we’d have already blasted our way past it
with rocketships
you’re lackin’ the knowledge kid
you’re talkin’ a lot of sh-t
you’re not a geometrist
you’re largest accomplishment
was harvesting lots of hits
on the garbage you call your vids
you’re a psy op accomplice
not a prophecy scientist

ya f-ckin’ prophets for profit
y’all can’t f-ck with hipgnostic

(they call me hipgnostic
my rhymes are toxic
lines are caustic
minds i toss ’em to the microcosm!
they call me hipgnostic
my rhymes are toxic
lines are caustic
minds i toss ’em to the microcosm!)

(prophets for profit
p-p-p-prophets for profit…)

pat robertson, you so bothersome
you a prophet for profit
joel osteen, quit pullin’ schemes
you a prophet for profit
eric dubay, why you playin’?
you a prophet for profit
mark dice don’t know christ
he’s a prophet for profit
theresa caputo ya puta
you a prophet for profit
tila tequila, i screened ya
you a prophet for profit
alex jones, you’re a hoax
ya f-ckin’ prophet for profit
david icke doesn’t like
being called a prophet for profit
and y’all should think twice
before you f-ck with hipgnostic
cuz my logic is toxic
to the bullsh-t you’re talkin’
so get to steppin’ and walkin’
with your irrelevant boxed-in ideologies
washed in the bl–dy bodies of conmen
as my philosophy’s dawned in
by hypnotically long
and stream-of-consciousness
rhyme schemes in my song, man

- hipgnostic

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