Gazillion Ear - Thom Yorke Man on Fire Remix

Villain man never ran with krills in his hand and
Won't stop rockin' til he clocked in a gazillion grand
Tillin' the wasteland sands
Raps on backs of treasure maps, stacks to the ceilin' fan
He rest when he's ashes
Ask 'em after ten miles in his galoshes, smashes stashes

Chip on his shoulder with a slip on holster
A clip, a folder and his grip on a boulder bolster
They supposed to know, it show when his aura glow
Get from out the row, when he get dough, it's horrible
Time is money, spend, waste, save, invest the fess
For 10 Ks, he'll cave a chicken chest S

Yes, y'all, the dub will get ya trickles
The best ballers pitch in and rub together nickels
But, tut tut, he 'bout to change the price again
It go up each time he blow up like hydrogen
Villain here, have 'em shrillin' in fear
And won't stop top illin' 'til he a gazillionaire
Grillin' stare, yeah, ya boy had drama
Got 'em on a mental plane, avoided bad karma

Once sold an inbred skinhead a nigga joke
Plus a brand new chrome smoker with the triggers broke
I thought I told 'em firing pins was separate
He find out later when he tries to go and rep it
Took a Jehovah money for a Arabic Torah
Charged in advance to translate it and ignored it sorta
One monkey don't stop no slaughter
A junkie wanna cop a quarter ton, run for the border
Know the drill, it ain't worth the overkill
Flow skill, still, there's no thrill

Fill a billion 10K bills in his pill'a
Villain, when it gets realer, split the skrilla with
Dilla his is agenda is clear
Endin' this year with dividends to spare, here
It's not meant for the seein'
Went through the ceilin' after enterin' his center bein'
A new meanin' to sales through the roof
Guaranteed raw and saw his truth was truth, proof

It's the return of the tramp
Who do a duet jam when Ernest goes to camp
For the right earn, nah mean like Vern
We need some more oil for the machines to burn, learn
Jiminy crickets
He gets lucky like winnin' free tickets off sickly lyrics
One man's waste is another man's soap

Son's fanbase know the brotha man's dope
A real weirdo with a bugged rare flow
And the way his hair grow was ugly as a scarecrow
He wears a mask so the charge won't grab
On a rooftop with a large stone slab
Heads up, talk white and thought niggerish
Refuse to walk tight and got his off the vigorish
Black licorice and equally as yucky
How he handled the money was strictly Dan Stuckie

Monkey hustle, man on fire
Later for the date than the Hadron Collider
And cost more, it be seemin' like a style
DOOM leave the competition steamin' like a pile
Smile, ding, sparklin' jewels
In effect like alternate side of the street parkin' rules
Fools, the roach was never dead
Live for a week then dehydrate with a severed head
Instead, it was depicted as flicked in
Split, the wick's lit