Scapegoat Atmosphere
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Scapegoat" by Atmosphere. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Verse 1: Slug]
It's the caffeine, the nicotine, the milligrams of tar
It's my habitat, it needs to be cleaned, it's my car
It's the fast talk they use to abuse and feed my brain
It's the cat box, it needs to be changed, it's the pain
It's women, it's the plight for power, it's government
It's the way you're given knowledge slow with thought control and subtle hints
It's rubbing it, itching it, it's applying cream
It's the foreigners sightseeing with high beams, it's in my dreams
It's the monsters that I conjure, it's the marijuana
It's embarrassment, displacement, it's where I wander
It's my genre, it's Madonna's videos
It's game shows, it's cheap liquor, blunts, it's bumper stickers with rainbows
It's angels, demons, gods, it's the white devils
It's the monitor, the soundman, it's the motherfucking mic levels
It's gas fumes, fast food, Tommy Hil', mommy's pill
Columbia House Music Club, designer drugs, and rhyming thugs
It's bloods, crips, fives, six, It's stick up kids
It's Christian conservative terrorists, it's porno flicks
It's the East Coast, no it's the West Coast
It's public schools, it's asbestos, it's mentholated, it's techno
It's sleep, life, and death, it's speed, coke, and meth
It's hay fever, pain relievers, oral sex, and smoker's breath
It stretches for as far as the eye can see
It's reality, fuck it, it's everything but me
It's the caffeine, the nicotine, the milligrams of tar
It's my habitat, it needs to be cleaned, it's my car
It's the fast talk they use to abuse and feed my brain
It's the cat box, it needs to be changed, it's the pain
It's women, it's the plight for power, it's government
It's the way you're given knowledge slow with thought control and subtle hints
It's rubbing it, itching it, it's applying cream
It's the foreigners sightseeing with high beams, it's in my dreams
It's the monsters that I conjure, it's the marijuana
It's embarrassment, displacement, it's where I wander
It's my genre, it's Madonna's videos
It's game shows, it's cheap liquor, blunts, it's bumper stickers with rainbows
It's angels, demons, gods, it's the white devils
It's the monitor, the soundman, it's the motherfucking mic levels
It's gas fumes, fast food, Tommy Hil', mommy's pill
Columbia House Music Club, designer drugs, and rhyming thugs
It's bloods, crips, fives, six, It's stick up kids
It's Christian conservative terrorists, it's porno flicks
It's the East Coast, no it's the West Coast
It's public schools, it's asbestos, it's mentholated, it's techno
It's sleep, life, and death, it's speed, coke, and meth
It's hay fever, pain relievers, oral sex, and smoker's breath
It stretches for as far as the eye can see
It's reality, fuck it, it's everything but me
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