Sword Box Malibu Ken

[Verse 1]
What kind of bastion of trust
Hit the stage with a straight-face and jacket full of doves?
Where daisy-chained hankies vanish into plastic thumbs
It was classic misdirection sold as magic to the young
Via masters of deception
The full force, court of volunteer
Pull a quarter out his ear in a recession
Pull a rabbit from a Stetson, as a rapper
Though it's basically the same exact profession
Watch, con artist, give a fuck who the mark is
Whether gorgeous or New Yorkers through the eye of Diane Arbus
No outstanding warrants, nothing up his sleeve
I need you feeling weak and needing something to believe
I need you feeling freakish, that's when I really flourish
I wake up in a sword box, I brush my teeth with bullets
Underneath some cosmic retrograde where patsies get their signals flipped
Hold on to your crystal pouch, step up to the thimble rig

[Chorus]
And for my next trick
I'll make a dollar bill climb up out your wallet
Disappear and reappear inside my pocket
I never really do these things twice
But if y'all ask nice I just might
If y'all ask nice I just might
If y'all ask nice I just might