Lyrics Opening Theme - Clear Soul Forces

Opening Theme

Yo, I’m ill enough to face a hornets nest half naked
If we shoot this later your viewers get it through simulation
Cause when nameless banging imagination is racing
And playing out like a DBZ scene with super Saiyans ascended
At the top like a tinted part of your front window
Woulda called it a windshield but the shit didn’t rhyme, yo
Mutated vocals, wolverine mixed with a blade from Hanzo-Hattori
Savage when wordy, destroyer vision glauco-think my shit is some psycho
Telekinetic mind fold, hitting you up with a mic stand
Setting up Mr. Socko combatic style is vato
Doomsday device a nigga off the cage and fuck the top rope
Noveliss with the lift and my fist and forearm through your throat
Catapulted at eighty mph and feet deep below
Phone in them paramedics evac tell 'em get they people
How you liking them apples I spit it quick as Carlito
Leave you in fetal, nigga
Yelling «flame» on plus I’m a Ninja, no stealth
With two molotov cocktails tied together, I’m using them as nunchucks
I’m Michelangelo with 'em, with my face under this mask but I forgot to put the
eye holes in it
A pyro with a blindfold, belligerent blind fury bending a microphone with the
breath of General Iroh
Arsonist live shows, spit for defense the Praying Mantis
Emerging from my shell with more fire power than Samus
Bounty hunter percussion punisher, push the standard
Getting my bounce on like Guile when you just stand there
Game up, elbow dropping a beat off the top of the Himalaya
The Randy Savage, New World Order of rap spazzes
Wolf Pac shit, power bomb bastards Kevin Nash mixed with a Stinger Splash plus
Torcher Racking
Check it, cold as a Dean Malenko alias, the Iceman
No Bobby Drake, the man of a thousand flows and you can’t hang
Studio mode Ila roll up trees
Got the fans fiending for our opening theme
Fanning off the flames from our opening them from our opening theme
Aqueduct mouth flows, flowing out I flood the streets with albums coming out
So cut the jargon out fuck y’all talking about
Ong bak karate head chop (choppa chop ya chop ya chop ya)
Skull rocking like a sniper shot go blocka blocka blocka blocka
Nah, brother too busy dumbing on y’all suckers
Tear the roof off just with the flow gutters
Fattest raps I keep 'em coming by the bakers dozen
Tight behind lines like Dell Curry’s son is
Golden state of mind, hall of fame rhymes thumping
A bronze bust fit in the trunk, bet both woofers will crunch once your car’s
running
So shake something, move something like Hi-Tek was on production
Nameless head banging production you Questlove it
Now when bender grip the crown the whole crowd sit up erect
From gentlemen to your women friends, everybody connect
Just to peek a glimpse of the man and the myth live and direct
I bring the spirit of my culture whenever scrambling adjectives together have
you snapping your neck
It’s an automatic effect when you hearing something this fresh
And we do it to death, ashy to classy, you know the rest
So it ain’t no time for commas unless you talking forking dollars
Four horseman of scholarly, ignoramus rapping
Attacking Animaniacs with a bologna stick in my slacks
Slicker riggity raw raps, niggas still in they nap sacks
Knowing they lacking spinal bone, shimmy up to the the plate and put a chicken
on the microphone
I got my welding arcs sparks glowing, metal flying molding iron blowing exhaust
But never exhausted smog is clouding your iris
Waving bye to you niggas with off brand styles
Syllables, masterful switch it, south paw crack you and split your mandible
Supreme fuck-it ness from my life being dismantled
So this weight that’s on my shoulders is something you couldn’t handle
Get back, yo, call it that special seasoning, I’m going McCormick off killing
verses
Talking bodies and hearses, these gorgeous women applaud us, my brother,
fuck is you talking?