06 - Max Awe

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Song Credits

  • Beats, Rhymes & Cuts: Pot-C
  • Bass Guitar: Thomas Lyons aka C-Man

Song Lyrics

I showed up with a jet pack - smoke show and lasers - Lit up a Chonger of 200 papers

Landed on a monster truck made of skateboards - bottlerockets shot from my fists to your face for

A whole five minutes of costume changes - Robocop - Darth Vader - Batman and Optimus

Prime - the whole time I drank a box of wine - transformed it into a mic then rhymed

I’m Pot-C and the crowd went wild - on infinite all my shit’s dialed

Piled up - 20 high are stacks of Yugos - that form my stage and the go go cage

Filled with dancer’s on minimum wage - my opening act of Plant and Page

I rant and rave to a symphony orchestra - I’m not done til I stick a fork in ya

Best to forfeit tha poor shit in orbit - you thought was amazing when I start blazing

Saddles with paddles for Pong on your lawn - that are solid concrete and fifty feet long

On and on like Sisters With Voices - I’m not just the raddest - I’m also the choicest

Hoist this human trophy like Stanley’s - cup filled up with whisky and brandy

And the ingredients - the herbs and spices - way past eleven on all devices

Nice on the mic - escort the elderly - over expressways and off their balconies

Helpin these folks connect with that’s all - a be a buh be a buh be and that stall

Might help the reference - library sections - come back to life when we’re disconnected

Yep this train of thought’s off the rails - no engineer - no wind in the sails

Willows squeeze - rust and then seize - fart in a bottle of your Febreeze

These are the voyages - toy with this formula - this Warner brother is formally warnin’ ya

A warmed up world makes surfin an option - to get to work, the mall or adoption

Parenting planning offices - off of this - obelisk - offer Frisk to an optometrist

Awful shit all I get from it is twisted - don’t sweat Keith, Kool or the Apple

Bean sprout powered almost live in Seattle - in the john my keister can win any battle

That’ll curb critics my spit is acidic - I’m the Takata airbag in your Civic

Help help me Honda - Mary Jane I’m fonda - I’ll book you a night in Hotel Rwanda

I even googled it and decided to go on the - record that poor taste can’t stop the bombs from

Leavin’ my mouth - ain’t no filter stoppin this - prank call I’m makin straight to Panagopoulos

Pizza in PoCo from a foreign metropolis - dot J P after the Zeopolis

Love it or leave it - everybody’s gonna rock a fist -  maybe not buzz but for sure there’s Oscar piss

Near this trash can I’m standing on top of kids - a buck 42 dose of Maximum Awesomeness