Y all want to see tits and ass, Street grit and sass As beatniks smoking grass on holiday -You know what we want- You're looking for a grievance to mask, preferably with a fetus in the trash While you eat quiche and laugh on the Champs-Elysee -You know what we want- I'm not down with that B-list staff, As they yell out Jesus at mass I'll be laughing while I knead this mish-mash of pottery clay -You know what we want- An appropriated grease-slick slab, posted up as a meat stick add But I make the average moviegoer too seasick and sad -You know what we want- And I'm too caustic to run, for office or be expunged For my agnostic plunge -You know what we want- So what I've accomplish and done, is viewed as an off-setted pun By the posh and young tastemakers -You know what we want- An overdone tame premise, I jump from the plane wreckage Unscaved yet sunbathed in the rigors of a bass pluck -You know what we want- Pop culture's lame vestiges, I'm an ordained pessimist With hippie-qualms and sticky bombs to deter the tank-truck I'm good for a belly laugh Covered in a blanket of ash Leaving with an ankle cast But sometimes I feel that I don't have what you want So won't you accept my humble offerings Broken TV sets as ethereal driftwood When you're on the plan alive with water wings You'll think, I didn't know surrendering felt this good I don't have what you want So won't you accept my humble offerings They want semantics and sniveling Grams to sniff on a triple-beam To be hand-picked for a little scene In a student film All I have is pamphlets full of liberal zing Antihistamines in a syringe-sling A shanty for this fitted king Of uprooted elm And they've been given solar-powered cars Trail mix and power bars Upturned tarot cards They want to be heralded by wishful teens In stretch-Hummers and limousines They're beyond medicinal means -You know what we want- But I gave them a protagonist The color of cinnamon and mahogany filtered through award-winning cinematography And the motherfucking discography of a G If you don't like it then kick rocks Im pre-history's disc-jock Yeah, I know what you wanted homie but I never had the shit in-stock I don't have what you want So won't you accept my humble offerings Broken TV sets as ethereal driftwood When you're on the plane alive with water wings You'll think, I didn't know surrendering felt this good I don't have what you want So won't you accept my humble offerings