Lyrics Deadly Impact - Grand Scheme, Vanderslice, The Flying Dutchmen

Deadly Impact

Yeah, motherfuckers
It’s the Dutchmen, what?
Original soundtrack, the foul weather now or never
Out for cheddar, style is better, sound is clever, Alca-treasure
San Fran, Sandman, Van Damme
Spin kick, when it land, fam?
KO, you can’t stand
Right hook until my hand jam, it’s your last stand
Like custard, musket, trained in the badland
Fuck this, dust spliffs, blaze in my man’s land
Hustlers love this, they say, «That's my damn jam»
Vanderslice you to pieces, you need Jesus
Grab the knife till your spleen splits, my team’s swift
Grammar’s nice, when he spits, the beat kicks
Like Bruce Leroy, B-boy, peep this
The illustrator, kill a stranger in the feel of danger
But still a savior, ill with flavor when I spill and blaze ya
Conceal the razor in my grill until I peel your face up
Run in the bank with a shank, fucker, fill the case up
Lex Starwind, nigga
Foul weather, yo
Foul weather off of the shore, these kids lost in
Diamonds, shining in the maelstrom, they flossin'
Mayflower slave ship, bound to hit Boston
Torch 'em, burn 'em in the flames, it’ll cost 'em
Sodium, Cyanide tablets, broken through the fabric
Of life’s fragile shell till they cracked it
Savage, venom laced tapes, not your average
You faggot, it’s duck season, you silly rabbit
Dutchmen crush men off the shores and never been there
Deep impact, monsoons, so bring your swimwear
Nightmare, three parsecs to your light year
Around the universe and back but still right here
Appear from nowhere, return to the same place
An alternate plain of reality, different space
Where the world line helix, space-time prefix
To your own existence of future, you couldn’t see shit
The Dutchmen
Grand Scheme, yeah
I puff enough dust to bungee jump from a satellite
Reenact the Black Dahlia murder with a rainbow knife
Your mouth scream «gangster» but your outfit scream «hermaphrodite»
I squeeze around your neck till you changing color like traffic lights
I grab the mic, and drop verses so outlandish
You couldn’t scratch the surface of my words with belt sanders
This upstanding, pushing trash like Fred Sanford
Only time you should be feeling yourself is for breast cancer
I make you an example and impale you on the mic stand
I slay rappers at random, they cancer to fucking lifespan
The Dutchmen, spit that fly shit, design the flight plans
Drinking Jack Daniels, busting handguns at your hype man
I come from nightmares, created by Wes Craven
While you perpetrating for it, we coming with guns blazin'
Fuck the law, what’s more wake than circuit trainin'?
I’m a fucking cult classic, amazin’s an understatement