Windows 98 - Celph Titled

Yo, stop breathing fog on my window

I reconfigured your pixel display to disguise shut down system icons as OK

buttons

Modems fronting on connection rates, switching COM port data transfer levels to

2400 Baud

I’m living large like 2,000 terabyte drives in 30 90s

Just promoted to device manager—check my stats on Britannica

Encyclopedia, read-only media, hidden directories with password protection by

all means (You know my steeze)

.

My flow been has encrypted and programmed to be equipped with the ill shit

that most can’t get with

My linguistics bring the noise, making connections fail

Overload your box and now you know that

Minimize operations, control panel hiatus

I dropped the DOS for analog studies of orchestration

It’s obsolete—1995 was then.

Now it’s 1998—we're taking over this update

Fuck Bill Gates.

I macro hard, take your processes for hostage

All the way from 686 to 808D HD imposter

Mini tower boxes stuffed with too many program ruled devices, concise with

mechanisms

Call the crisis center

I’m IBM compatible with any Macintosh contender

Catch me lounging at the task bar

The alcohol’s on caps lock, picking up the tab

Shift my control to alternate delete you motherfuckers out the lab

Fully activated, forever in a workshop

The universal sys ops is not my protocol

We hack through great codes and step through busted windows

Where silicon chips grow, crushing plastic landscape

From Pentium to N-e-x, adjust our broken keyboards

Restoring all mainframes and slice the phone line

On the internet, I roam across eternal syndrome

Chrome-plated Logitechs directs me towards the next intersect

Encrypting information, I damage workstations

Deface the databases like a race for technology

When deep inside the sectors of a one gig hard drive

I’m liver with no type of power management

Prevent all viruses, search for

Now upload my thoughts, make your hardware go soft

Rhymes melt through ya modem 'cause I’m powered off radium

Waiting for selection of a hidden icon

A pointing device that can slice through menus

Continuing to wreck, dissecting all websites

Consuming the contents of a chat room that’s wack

I react, making service collapse—now how’s that?

Drop it with the carrier or three-hundred Baud

Navigating through directories and instant memory

Deep embedded in your system—on excursion you can find me

Tryna download the ninety nine beta version

Not enough memory for ya Windows

POW!

All systems are down

Not enough memory for ya Windows

POW!

All systems are down

Not enough memory for ya Windows

Ya Windows, ya Windows

Windows 98