Pace

Meet the man who talk of the street
He leaves no one quite the same
His game goes on and everyone
Is invited to play along
Once known in the neighborhood
As a brilliant architect
Designer of roads and avenues
Where the family to go home go

You gotta hurt for some people

Ambitious crash, a ball of flames
Innocent lives again all claim
Picks up the phone to hear them go
Down boy, down boy

Now he's getting very large
And has lost any debate
And shave and change his clothes every day
Especially when forced paid
And we call him "motherfucker"
Making "alumalumalum" sounds
Yes an old hat means where he is
Has no need for one anyhow

You gotta hurt for some people

Ambitious crash, a ball of flames
Innocent lives again all claim
Picks up the phone to hear them go
Down boy, down boy

Down boy, down boy
Down boy, down boy

We sure love to watch him go
Most of these people cross the street
Must be the monster voice they fear
Or maybe the maggots in his beard
Over the years he set his pace
He never rushes like before
I watch him mumble in my face
It's a shame he won't talk anymore

Yo! What?
Yo! What?
Yo! What?
Yo! What?
Yo! What?