| Dedicated to the brave and the snakes how they stay | 
| Steady raising mistakes like the earth won’t quake | 
| If they don’t break rank, and the bank, and the take, and the hate | 
| And the shape of the grief in the wake of a mistake | 
| Dedicated to the trust in the grave, to the lust and the haze | 
| Every co-dependent with a gust to behave, to the old pet names | 
| The dust and dead pets in the backyard graves | 
| Dedicated to the dedicated few | 
| Under medicated with an elevated view | 
| Stuck down, big ups to the buck-short | 
| The harsh, the snitched, the not-rich, the miscourt | 
| Those who demonstrate when the rest just say | 
| Or penetrate when there ain’t no way | 
| Dedicated to the sweat in the face | 
| Of a man misplaced who finds his own lane | 
| Dedicated to the brave and the snakes how they stay | 
| Steady raising mistakes like the earth won’t quake | 
| If they don’t break rank, and the bank, and the take, and the hate | 
| And the shape of the grief in the wake of a mistake | 
| Dedicated to the trust in the grave, to the lust and the haze | 
| Every co-dependent with a gust to behave, to the old pet names | 
| The dust and dead pets in slippery concaves | 
| Dedicated to the dedicated few | 
| Over-medicated with an underrated view | 
| Stuck down, big ups to the buck-short | 
| The harsh, the snitched, the not-rich, the miscourt | 
| Those who demonstrate when the rest just play | 
| Or penetrate like today’s that day | 
| Dedicated to the sweat in the face | 
| Of a man misplaced who finds his own lane | 
| Dedicated to the real, to the raw | 
| To the ball in the court of a tall sip | 
| Slip through the sidewalk, skip through the hard part | 
| Tip to the card shark, rip through the rampart | 
| Rampage campaign, masquerade that-a way | 
| Dedicated to any fucker that back breaks | 
| Dedicated to any mother with cracks in her pretty face | 
| Dedicated to the rat race | 
| And to the great escape, and to the greatest days | 
| And to the things we make with our own hands | 
| And to the way we stay within the arms delay | 
| Until the sting of loss in our own land | 
| And to the great escape, and to the great escape | 
| To the great escape, to the great escape | 
| To the great escape, to the great escape | 
| To the great escape, to the great escape |