The atomic facts, when they swung like drumsticks that crash on a hi-hat
Or when they fall flat like they cocked back and get smacked and cracked on a track like aluminum bats
Or skillfully duly arranged in polemics that’ll crush in a nucleated bum’s rush
To cut you subtle, redoubling the trouble, a razor blade in the stump of a toothbrush
I flare a sneer that scares the fear out your heart, your mind, your lying eyes and ears
You stutter and falter, you fall, but I’m here and I hear you loud and clear
And the word on the street is you’re nothing but a nerd with a beat
I repeat, are you deaf? You’re a poindexter with bum hip flexor, complete
Don’t tell me you’re blessed. I profess to possess not a speck of respect for your weak superstitious ideals
The world is everything that is the case
The facts arranged in logical space
I’m a Jersey-born New Yorker Texan. When I’m stressed and messed with best believe I’m flexing
My expressed beliefs admit of no correction
When you open up your mouth to speak you waste your breath; your rhymes is absent of significance
And hence, my motherfucking friends, it ain’t nothing going on here but the motherfucking rent

And now the suckers wonder where the motherfuck the Laughing Boy has went
But here I am, surprised to find how utterly insanely you’ve gone mental
The thought is the significant proposition
That’s wisdom. Call it what the fuck you will, since Eric and Parish said you gots to chill
And chill you will, I run drum fills, I crush my pills and snort ‘em up through hundred dollar bills

CHORUS
Whereof we cannot speak
Thereof we must be silent
The Atomic Facts
Whereof we cannot speak
Thereof we must be silent
The Atomic Facts

Cut the track, hustlin’ back the radicalist baddest ever
Orchestrator or crusader thunder cat that you can ever fire the fucking flack at, daddy mack
Muscle wins, when the thinking of a rational animal
Can strain explaining why it ever slack and why it must be lacking
Fuck that, this is game seven at the Garden
To blocking your shot like Ginobili did to Harden
A picture of reality unfadable,
instability being the quality of being unstable
A battle fought in the breezeway, you sees it, it lines up as tees and effs in a truth table
Breaking you up like the pool hall rack can scatter and clack like some playground jacks
And you better bet on this, my pack: we bringin’ ‘em back, the atomic facts

CHORUS
Whereof we cannot speak
Thereof we must be silent
The Atomic Facts
Whereof we cannot speak
Thereof we must be silent
The Atomic Facts