The Trick

We're in heaven

At least I think so, I really think so

There's nothing really to get mad at

It's nothing, really, no, it's really no problem!

Everything overstood, overseen

Big only those bold enough to dream big seem big

Stack big, act big, Mac sauce

Sticky icky, Jack Frost

Tricky dicky, blast off

Vicky-Vicky Vazquez

Ask this kid no questions

All kids kiss, no weapon, Smith no Wesson

Wesleyan, no lessons learned

Confession burn

You make me wanna, you remind me of

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera

Don't get it? Don't sweat it, just let it go

It's better with no Geppetto, though

It's really Heems, and I'm rapping with my friends

People all happy cause it's happening again

Comin' to our shows and clapping again and again

Thank you, my friends

I'm ill, people really love me

I'm wack, yo, people think I'm ugly

I'm ill, five hundred dollars for the boots

I'm wack, I never tell the truth

Four hundred dollars for the boots