lirik lagu mad scientists – mike east & zak
mike:
mad – scientists – mad – chatter
recorded in front of a live studio apartment
aborted and coming untied, new steamroller sergeant
bleeding it out like an ebola carc-ss, behold the darkest white artist ever to part lips. perfectin’ every method and regimen, tendin’ to effervescent specimins when they’re ready for presentin’. spreadin’ the message: get with a weapon or get to steppin’
never question the melanin, we messin’ with the elements
we f-ckin’ mad scientists, knuckle lab, flyin’ fists
taking a sample of you, double-bag, tie and twist
back in a lab i’m -n-lyzin’ it, tryin’ sh-t
finish up and feed it to a three-headed lioness
i’m making viruses, i’m a sick in the head chemist
smoking the devil’s lettuce, schizophrenic systemic menace
rellion, zak and the chatter are gonna make moves with relevant earth-shattering scientific breakthroughs
mad – s-s-scientists – mad – zak in the practice
zak:
a young man approaches and says “sir, i must ask
why are you standing in the corner twirling your mustache?”
i find the lights too bright and they could stand to dim, prefer the shadows for my shady shifty-eyed shenanigans
now move along, mind your business. rude to make a fuss
nevermind, besides, you gonna find out soon enough
when zak and the chatter blast the bats from the rafters
dastardly b-st-rds in tatters can’t repackage – just gasp at the masters
ha! i got no swag but i’m still mad dope
i wanted to look the part so i went and i got myself a lab coat
see a bit of steam, peering plumes of black smoke?
yeah, i guess i left your mind creaking, leaking, cracked and broke
in test tubes and beakers i concoct, not check swoosh on sneakers but still i can leave you shocked
plans put in place, set in motion can’t be stopped
behind this face there’s a boatload of bombs still yet to be dropped
lids still to be popper off, this how we get our rocks off
chop saw, gangrenous limbs to be lopped off
singing my plans, so concede to my demands
appease my hungry fans, all while wringing my hands
you can call me crazy. heck, my mind’s been lost, sure
more loose screws than the neck of frankenstein’s monster
mad scientist: a chosen t-tle but deemed thus worthy
i’m surely nothing if i’m not an evil g*nius
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