Lyrics Gas Chamber - Jon Murdock, Lex Starwind, Vanderslice

Gas Chamber

The Flying motherfucking Dutchmen
Vanderslice, Jon Murdock, Lex Starwind, yo
Bozos, bum MCs and assholes
Wanna park free, send 'em to jail, don’t pass go
Flow hot, jalapeño mean, Tabasco
Storm blocks, El Niño scene for cash blow
Lex Starwind breathes through tropical storm now
Nympho freak beats, poppin' a four pound
Barber on fleek street, choppin' your door down
George Jung, tongue uncut with the raw sound
You could catch me at a party, yo, spittin' sick audio
Fucking bitches in the back, exercise cardio
You never saw me though, bitches sippin' Cosmos
All work at Costco, suck me with they eyes closed
Indeed, if you want, you could call me for weed
Call me for anything you need, sell more speed that Keanu Reeves
Jon Murdock, PCP and the gravity bong
I could tell you that you nice, but that’d be wrong
Through strange days to dark days, I blaze with the lyrical
Take aim and part fades, deranged individual
Same shit that injure you, the same shit could kill ya
Real recognize real, I better look familiar
Beat break, body cast, shattered and bruised
Bet against L Star?
Bet the faggot’ll lose
Listen Vanderslice surgical incision, steady hands
Underground chief rocker, lord of the rings, fam
MC, Jon Murdock, FD
Chain snatch a rapper status off his neck and flee
Come to your show with it on, remember me?
Keep your new shit tucked low, it better be
Dutchmen soarin', neo-knocking, duck the warrant
Fucked with law and Peter, the guns enormous
Einhorn and Finkle, Finkle and Einhorn
Laces out, soccer style, kick it when the rhymes on
I’m looking for Ray Finkle
What do you know about Ray Finkle?
Soccer style kicker, graduated from Collier High June 1976
Stetson University’s Honor Graduate Class of 1980
Holds two NCAA Division I records
One for most points in a season, one for distance
Former nickname «the Mule»
The first and only pro athlete to ever come out of Collier County
And one hell of a model American
Sing a sad song, sour and deep
We’ll roll when Jakes on a stroll, steady pounding the beat
And you bear hugging blocks when you out on the street
Ain’t no slackin' on your rappin', keep them actions discrete
Shit, Rick the Model Martel, arrogance in your face
Back pocket wallet raped, assault and batter your safe
When your doors kicked quick, tripped up carrying weight
On the bus with white ratch, right back, right in they face
Right in they faces, pumpin' the gauges, Dutchmen and Dation
Still they both ill, for real, fuckin' amazin'
Get my Wang Chung on, buggin', clubbin' with Asians
Your RuPaul squad could never fuck with the flavors
Kanye bitch bad but bald like Sigourney Weaver
He got auto-tune corny fever with a horny diva
Fuck around, gun blast, leak forty liters
Buck the pound, run fast, teeter for your speakers
Tommy gun fun, Connie Chung news reportin'
Lohan program, Olsen twins snortin'
Shit, note hit harder than Rocky boxin'
Eighty mills of that Heath Ledger Oxycontin
Hit like Piston Honda, VTEC, my piston’s Honda
While out drunk and pissed in Hondas
Vanderslice chop Benihana’s, flip hibachi
Snitch niggas singing on mics, Liberace
Jon Hefner, rhyme diesel like Brock Lesnar
Smoking jacket, hold the ratchet, sucked in the Cessna
Your flows are average, choke a faggot, slumped on a stretcher
Coke’s a habit, smoke my pack and struck with the heckler
Emo, wacker than Shaq with a free throw
Wacker than Mr. Bentley dancing with CeeLo
Hip-Hop in flip-flops, I laugh at you people
Cats dying, lyrical strength is straight lethal
Mwahahahahaha!
It’s the real Flying Dutchman
You bet your lilly-white livers I’m the Flying Dutchman
And I’ll let ya in on a little secret;
I’m going to steal your soul