[Intro: Samples]
Speaker: “Neil Armstrong, 38-year-old American, standing on the surface of the moon on this July 20, 1969”
Armstrong: “It’s one small step for a man... one giant leap for mankind”

[Verse 1]
Ripping up your city, here comes Alex the Whirlwind
Twisting up your brains, drop shit New York to Berlin
Come back, Blitzkrieging the whole New York region
Grab your bitch and burn like HIV lesions
Keep your eyes open, show your team where the Glocks is
Pour some disinfectant in your ears, I’m speaking noxious
Alex the baby came after afterbirth
I ain’t been straight with God since He dropped my ass on Earth (You gonna)
(Burn for that!) Then burn me right now, pa! My scalp
Still wears a scar from that lobotomy seminar
Can’t help but act out when I black out
I pushed my brother eyes in, then I kicked him back out. You kids
Trying to blast at me better learn to shoot straighter
Premature brains get cooked up in an incubator
Page 67 paragraph 2
Show precision in your “How To Skin Emcees Alive” manual
My brain’s so packed with shit, years of playing toilet
Every time, my fucking tongue lit. Every day’s deranged
And I can’t escape living in sci-fi flick, I
Eat out chinese and ambush ‘em with my G.I. dick
[Hook]
I’m a
Radiohead, getting open ‘til I’m brain-dead
And then I’m getting open ‘til you brain-dead. I’m a
Radiohead, get you open ‘til I’m brain-dead
Then I get you open ‘til you brain-dead. I’m a
Radiohead, getting open ‘til you brain-dead
Then I’m getting open ‘til I’m brain-dead. I’m a
Radiohead, get you open ‘til I’m brain-dead
Then I’m getting open ‘til you brain-dead

[Verse 2]
The ludicrousness is the insignificance
Since my mother’s intimance spawned the nastiest of linguists
I popped out the snatch, wiped my face clean of the crap
That’s been holding me back since minus nine months, my leaky sack
Blind ya, T-E-C behind ya. Who could undermine tha
Sickest of intelligence to find ya? The vagina
Redesigner get you opened out your own mind, ya
Sent to death, trying ta slide out your own spine ta
Find a life where your cock’s treated like Christ and every
Cunt from off your block will beg forgiveness from your sex device
Twice birthed, questionably Earth-bred
Umbilical noose scars on my neck from where I first lived
You’re scared of death so you wear a vest. Fuck protective flesh
I pinch it back and push your soul out your chest
Coming this winter: straitjackets by North Face
Ate three all-girl schools and could spit out how each whore taste
Record shops will see more fiends than a detox
When Cage shit drops like LSD blots
You can’t handcuff what you can’t snuff. Before your
Body’s embalmed, I dip the philly for a puff
[Hook]
I’m a
Radiohead, getting open ‘til I’m brain-dead
Then I’m getting open ‘til you brain-dead. I’m a
Radiohead, get you open ‘til I’m brain-dead
Then I get you open ‘til I’m brain-dead. I’m a
Radiohead, getting open ‘til I’m brain-dead
Then I’m getting open ‘til you brain-dead. I’m a
Radiohead, get you open ‘til you brain-dead
Then I’m getting open ‘til I’m brain-dead

[Verse 3]
I was
Possessed by Dionysis, kicked out of high school
For giving pap smears in crisis, cold-type cyphers
I burn motherfuckers ‘til the fume kicks, then I’m
Fucking them four craft bitches to death with broomsticks
Sweeping chicks, lacing up knicks, getting lovely
‘Til I’m spaced-out roughly like Martians playing rugby
See a vigilante, shoot him ‘til his heart stops
And send his eyes to the toy cops from crime watch
Catch my pipebomb style then find your finger
Bloody any chicken from her leg, breast, thigh, or winger
Love to think of shit that I think of, past the brink of
Losing my brains into the sickest forms of kink, ya
Motherfucks catch murder deluxe, my lyrics puncture
The fattest cuts where liposucks broke some of y’all flux
Super-bitch cunning, still not yet adapted to this
Lifeform I’ve been flung in with limbs numbing
[Hook]
I’m a
Radiohead, getting open ‘til I’m brain-dead
Then I’m getting open ‘til you brain-dead. I’m a
Radiohead, get you open ‘til you brain-dead
Then I get you open ‘til I’m brain-dead. I’m a
Radiohead, getting open ‘til I’m brain-dead
Then I’m getting open ‘til you brain-dead. I’m a
Radiohead, get you open ‘til you brain-dead
Then I’m getting open ‘til I’m brain-dead

[Outro: Samples]
Armstrong: “I’m at the foot of the ladder. The [Lunar Module] footpads are only depressed in the surface about 1 or 2 inches. It’s almost like a powder. “
Speaker: “Armstrong is on the moon, Neil Armstrong”