Texty: Sage Francis. Sun Vs Moon.
Th-the devil
Th-th-the devil
[x4 then continues until "settle their differences"]
The devil only exists because of your belief in him
Same goes for that other guy
I believe the sun is simply reflecting the shine from the moon (word?)
Stealing its spotlight, they'll have a cockfight at noon
To settle their differences
At midnight, rematch
To stir up their similarities on turntables
That chicken scratch proved to be unreadable
The determining factor in who gets the pitch to control the tides
No one decides a victor unless they give a fair listen to both the sides
We're low-lives
We go blind jerking off to the eclipse
The sun was pulling cheap shots doing commercial body tricks
Behind the back
Under the leg
I think he even did a headspin
On a crossfader that sounded whack
What protection in
All of the sudden it gets dim
The crater face steps in
Puts mexican drumbreaks on the Technics
He's like "Let's begin"
He conducted an orchestra so dope the sun started sweatin' him
I guess he'd expected to win on pure artistic merit
Composing complex plays with nothin but soundbytes
Burned out the lights
Made MCs too self conscious quit the master mics
For a thousand nights
Continued without a single slip up
Except once the record skipped
But it kinda sounded cool
And fit within the rhythm he was juggling
Poly-rhythms out of country western albums spinning
It is plain that he had come to win
But as always due to corrupt judging
They drew a tie
Now it's do or die
The sun was like
no no no
The moon was like
go go go
[x3]
And when the sun was chosen
I came to the conclusion
His dad doesn't know what he's doin'
God's not a woman
He's a big white guy in the sky
And the deserts are reflections of his eyes
He doesn't cry for us
But when he does
It's cause he's drunk
(Say What?)
God's not a woman
He's a big white guy in the sky
And the deserts are reflections of his eyes
He doesn't cry for us
But when he does
It's cause he's drunk
And he's always fucked up
Bottom's up
God's not a woman
He's a bitch
Th-the devil
Th-th-the devil
[x4]
This is one hand clapping alone
This is the smallest violin
Run rabbit when they fight to kill your baddest poem
The devil is the fucking white man
This is one hand clapping alone
This is the smallest violin
Run rabbit when they fight to kill your baddest poem
The white man (the white man)
(Th-th-the devil)
Th-th-the devil
[x4 then continues until "settle their differences"]
The devil only exists because of your belief in him
Same goes for that other guy
I believe the sun is simply reflecting the shine from the moon (word?)
Stealing its spotlight, they'll have a cockfight at noon
To settle their differences
At midnight, rematch
To stir up their similarities on turntables
That chicken scratch proved to be unreadable
The determining factor in who gets the pitch to control the tides
No one decides a victor unless they give a fair listen to both the sides
We're low-lives
We go blind jerking off to the eclipse
The sun was pulling cheap shots doing commercial body tricks
Behind the back
Under the leg
I think he even did a headspin
On a crossfader that sounded whack
What protection in
All of the sudden it gets dim
The crater face steps in
Puts mexican drumbreaks on the Technics
He's like "Let's begin"
He conducted an orchestra so dope the sun started sweatin' him
I guess he'd expected to win on pure artistic merit
Composing complex plays with nothin but soundbytes
Burned out the lights
Made MCs too self conscious quit the master mics
For a thousand nights
Continued without a single slip up
Except once the record skipped
But it kinda sounded cool
And fit within the rhythm he was juggling
Poly-rhythms out of country western albums spinning
It is plain that he had come to win
But as always due to corrupt judging
They drew a tie
Now it's do or die
The sun was like
no no no
The moon was like
go go go
[x3]
And when the sun was chosen
I came to the conclusion
His dad doesn't know what he's doin'
God's not a woman
He's a big white guy in the sky
And the deserts are reflections of his eyes
He doesn't cry for us
But when he does
It's cause he's drunk
(Say What?)
God's not a woman
He's a big white guy in the sky
And the deserts are reflections of his eyes
He doesn't cry for us
But when he does
It's cause he's drunk
And he's always fucked up
Bottom's up
God's not a woman
He's a bitch
Th-the devil
Th-th-the devil
[x4]
This is one hand clapping alone
This is the smallest violin
Run rabbit when they fight to kill your baddest poem
The devil is the fucking white man
This is one hand clapping alone
This is the smallest violin
Run rabbit when they fight to kill your baddest poem
The white man (the white man)
(Th-th-the devil)
Sage Francis
Sage Francis