Split Seconds
Busdriver Lyrics

Be real, conscious rap failed us
The singer believes that the genre of conscious rap has not been successful.

I didn't say that
The singer clarifies that they did not make the statement in the previous line.

You know, welcome to my rap jam
The singer greets the listener and invites them to listen to their music.

The top-hatted Abrahams are shoveling the raisin bran
People in positions of power and wealth are taking control and profiting off of the everyday items consumed by the public.

In eyeballs their bi-laws are leaping off the laser scan
Propaganda controlled by those in power is being broadcasted everywhere.

Into your genotype telling you to deepthroat that pipe
Messages are being sent to people's very DNA, encouraging them to consume addictive substances.

If you don't do it well These hoes might
If a person does not become skilled in partaking in these addictive substances, they may become vulnerable to exploitation by others.

The red carpenter's quota fills the deficit in motor skills Of on-lookers raw sugars register at overkill Within your colon wall so a candied bowling ball You squeeze out at the open call
Consuming too much sugar leads to health problems and produces waste that is difficult to pass, which is ironic as people continue to consume it, leading to a vicious cycle.

But what if you could Inundate the open hearing with your shrewd barbs That perforates the sloganeering on the cue cards Would you prize that fine cut or just apply blush As besquelched sea-kelp nibbling on pie crust
The artist questions whether they should use their platform to criticize the powers that be, or whether they should maintain the status quo and pretend everything is fine.

The job offers at Albany's count Dracula And calorie-count spatula kitchen staff Are on the lithograph Of your Calvin Kline alkaline-enriched gonads
People are so obsessed with material wealth and societal status that their very reproductive organs are affected by it.

Should I kiss your ass or drown you In the saffron soy dip
The singer is questioning whether they should flatter others to gain approval or be honest and possibly risk negative reactions.

But my Zaxxon joy stick pokes at my Glitter spackled jump suit Mr. Applewhite grunt pukes From the candle light-drunk seldom sung tooth
The artist is describing their own appearance and the nauseating feeling they get from inauthenticity.

But you're the fresh faced unknown With sophomoric gags and washboard abs Finding cinaplex waste blood stones Can I be OG Mud Bone?
The singer is comparing themself to an up-and-coming artist, who may be seen as more marketable due to their looks and humor. They express longing for the perceived simplicity of the past.

Go free and unplug the phone
The singer encourages the listener to step away from the constant distraction of technology and enjoy life.

Nannies or swamis undefeated Screaming "Pansy commies! Love it or leave it" Or pumping antibodies in the VP's cleavage They split it, split it...
The singer observes the strange and absurd things people do and say, and how it seems to do nothing to solve deeper societal issues.

Cool points trump those DIY Numerics
Appearance and popularity seem to matter more than authenticity and true skills.

Be yourself but I'm too embarrassed
The artist struggles with being themselves and expressing their true identity in the face of societal pressures and criticism.

So that famed crook playbook and diary diarrhea split seconds Split seconds, they split seconds, split seconds...
The way people are portrayed in the media and how fast-paced society is leads to a lot of inauthenticity and insincerity.

The 1-800 dollar guilt trip Stamped on my African name book Proves that behind the cumulus blue There's a humilicious stew as Dane Cook's table reads, so I yank butch's anal beads
Societal structures designed to make people feel guilty for who they are and where they come from are absurd and harmful. The singer contrasts this with the privileged excess of celebrity culture.

Boo-hoo loser bitch your dopes in the blood and stole Because most rap careers mirror stints as drug mules But you are the pickaninny, blackfaced Ren & Stimpy Our on-screen time is split 50-50 But I've only drawn guns On construction paper with the pastel sticks And I'm a left of center loyalist Who's selling bean pies with a bad sales pitch This sex offender's foil fixed in utero On my own dumb ass self Yeah I pimp super ho Whom is me
The artist reflects on the darker side of the rap industry and the harm it can cause, and critiques those who perpetuate these issues. They then delve into their own artistic process and their own personal struggles with self identity, sex work, and attempts at political activism.

They liken Driver to Fish Bone Have fire and brimstone misers disowned But I'm not sure Y'all are too NAACP or NWA on GP But I straddle the fence every nanosec Canceled checks line the uteral wall of my music hall
The artist grapples with their own artistic identity and what they're properly aligned with, while also noting the complex history of music industry politics.

Cool points trump those DIY numerics Be yourself, but I'm too embarrassed You got to be you So that famed crook playbook and diary diarrhea split seconds Split seconds, they split seconds, split seconds...
The struggle between authenticity and societal expectations continues, as the artist encourages people to strive to be themselves despite the challenges they'll face.