Old Robot Saying: Does Not Compute

Two thousand five
Old gettin revive
It has conscience
Cold as ice, load the dice
Obnoxious
Style coming from the clutchest minutes
There is no limit what has capable of with it
Milliseconds, it can be both
Much like waves and dot strike craves
Ahead of time, act like slaves

Watch out the bad one, cos they tracked you, slayed
We can all observe the situation, from our grave

First of all
There was a semi-automatic thought
Furthermore
They didn't even have a soul
Hi-de-hi-de-ooo - hi-de-hi-de-ooo
Mr. Calloway designs all the limbic system stereo

First of all
There was a semi-automatic thought
Furthermore
They didn't even have a soul
Hi-de-hi-de-ooo - hi-de-hi-de-ooo
Mr. Calloway designs all the dancing ratio

01100011 01101111 01101101 01110000
01110101 01110100 01100101 00001010

Zero one, one arrow up, motherfucker down
Left shift for the perk, smirk while you can run
None, make it to the end, we can't save, save none
All we can take, and we take, and we take fun

One zero, zero one arrow down, motherfucker run
Right to the stomach, hit it with a command alt, I won
Second phase start, but it wants out
A fall, install, dissolve, evolve

The game have a ghosts and a maze
I can pull, you amaze, with a situation
Host gonna face, to its own fucking taste
With a theatrical pace, pick a riddle, triple threat
Raise, raise, I raise to it's stakes

Token, tools you can choose, but you all gonna lose
Scary motherfuckers fools with a rules, what a waste
But the city gonna awake and city gonna take
And this city gonna shake and they will fight till they fade

Open and drop, trippy mothefucker whatsapp
I evolve with a priority, vanity fair suck
A clock
Showing you how, they tracking you down
Fucking you up, just fucking around
Letting you clown

Game have a ghosts and a maze
It's a virtual taste, rising from the ground
It can make you run, make it run
Same as the whole world, roll you can now
Old and I, conquer with a; phone down

Token, tools, you can choose, but you lose
Scary motherfuckers fools with a rules, what a fake one
What a fake one
None can make you choose

Just use, the time, to mesmerize
It's part of my compromise
All this shit gonna televised
Televised



Credits
Writer(s): Mehmet Ataman
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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