VERSE 1:
‘angel van meth’
is making a mess of herself
acquired a crystallized reputation
making a mess of herself
making a mockery of me
not quite deserving of her
(now that you’re ugly as sin)
(you were o so adorable then)
(after you score some more)
(now that you’re playing to win)
(preparing to lose it all over and over again)
(over and over and over and over again…)
baby we’re way past love
may as well make it rain
making it rain from below and above
then catching the last train…
making it rain…
how in the hell are you living and well?
when clearly you’re truly insane
clinically braindead and stumbling around in the rain…
stumblin around in the rain…
angel van meth…
X
(grown man crying at arv’s hand drum)
X
(Joe NAmath)
(meredith wants to play with you…)
(that skank over there?)
(not a chance in hell!)
“y’all belong in jail!”
(shouting from nassau street)
jackie + sylena mudwrestling in front of stage!
(“world star hip hop!” says joga)
(“hmmm” says arv)
(greek chorus:)
(two train bimbos singing “i knew you knew were trouble when we first met…”)
(1: with chinese store cat waving hands)
(2: blackface al jolson with white glove waving hands)
(cut to commercial)
(“and now a word from our sponsors…”)
(cut to NA meeting)
(“killing myself with benadryl pills…”)
(invisible joga whispers in dominika’s ear:)
(like WSP dealers with subliminal whispering)
(“nigga…”)
(what’d you say?)
dominika
that biological clock is ticking…
better act fast…
you’d better try harder…
i’m making it hard…
you’d better work smarter and harder…
smarter and holder…
OUTRO:
show me the money…
fuck you pay me…
they pay you?
grimaldi dindinger trussheim monetti…
you’d better save every dollar…
(every american dollar)
(who was that guy?)
(baby look out…)
you’d better save every dollar…
polly wanna a green card?
repeat after me…
(wave green card in front of crotch)
“you play on street?”
(yes ma’am!)
“you always broke?”
(yes ma’am!)
“can’t you take a joke?”
(no ma’am!)
tagel YOU smell!
the scent of your ovaries driving me wild…
the sound of your smile…
after i score some more
will you feel me out?
will you let me in?
“the creep meter…”
…
…
X
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(***BACK TO “ANGEL VAN METH” (THE SONG)***)
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