[Intro – whispered, conspiratorial] Okay… Plan A didn't work. Plan B got arrested. So… We're moving directly to Plan C. (dramatic pause) **Crackhead antics. [Verse 1]** He cornered me behind the corner store, Said, “Buddy, you ain't running anymore!” I looked left, I looked right, Saw my one-way ticket to the afterlife— Then I reached inside my coat real slow, He said, “What's that?” I said, “You really wanna know?” (beat cuts) POCKET— FENT! [Chorus] Pocket Fent! SHA-SHA-SHA! Throw some chaos in the air and run away! When diplomacy has reached its bitter end, Deploy confusion— Then CRACKHEAD ANTICS AWAY! Pocket Fent! SHA-SHA-SHA! Nobody knows what you're gonna do today! You don't need a plan when the plan makes no sense— Just hit 'em with the— CRACKHEAD ANTICS! [Verse 2] He wiped his eyes and started yelling, I was halfway down the alley like a bat outta hell-ing. He chased me past a laundromat, I jumped a fence— Then I jumped back! “HEY! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME?!” (record scratch) I stopped. I turned. I pointed at a dumpster. “DUDE… IS THAT YO MOMMA?!” He looked. I disappeared. [Spoken – triumphant] That's not running away. That's strategic misdirection. [Chorus] Pocket fent! SHA-SHA-SHA! Throw some chaos in the air and run away! When every normal option has collapsed, You improvise with whatever's in your— CRACKHEAD ANTICS! [Verse 3] Now he's caught me at the bus stop, Says, “This time you're not gonna get away!” I said, “Fair enough.” Then I pulled out the emergency distraction. (ominous bass note) A bag of absolutely questionable powder. He froze. I froze. Everybody froze. I whispered: “…Okay, this was supposed to be Plan D.” [Breakdown – frantic spoken delivery] Don't touch it! Don't breathe it! Don't ask where it came from! Just— (beat drops) THROW THE DISTRACTION! [Bridge – softer, absurdly sincere] Some people fight with fists and steel, Some use brains and tactical skill, But when the universe says, “You're absolutely screwed…” You don't need courage. You don't need grace. You just need something stupid And a head start. [Final Chorus – huge, chaotic] CRACKHEAD ANTICS! SHA-SHA-SHA! Every bad decision's just a getaway! When logic says, “There's nowhere left to go,” That's when you discover HOW LOW YOU CAN GO! CRACKHEAD ANTICS! SHA-SHA-SHA! Throw narcotics at the problem and evade! Was it tactical genius? Was it dumb luck? (spoken) No. It was— CRACKHEAD ANTICS! [Outro – exhausted whisper] …He caught me again. (pause) Pocket fent. SHA-SHA-SHA! (door slam) RUN, DUMBASS!
