| Look bitch
|
| You know I’m comin' tight
|
| So you can switch them hips from left to right
|
| All night and won’t nobody give a shit
|
| If you were sittin'
|
| I might ask you to stand so you can take a load
|
| Off your mind
|
| Cause the lyrics you kicked were so butt, your brain
|
| It must be synonymous
|
| With your behind in the time and you know your rhymin'
|
| Sucked black
|
| That’s why I still can’t figure out why the fuck
|
| He was all on my nut sac
|
| He was droolin' on the tool and who are you foolin'
|
| Tryin' to act so cool and
|
| When it comes to the duelin'
|
| Pull up a stool and we can begin the schoolin'
|
| Ooohin and Ahhhin
|
| Really don’t matter as long as the rapper
|
| They know who’s shit is phatter
|
| And who should be beggin' the pardon
|
| For the disaster as I blast you into
|
| Anti-matter make you scream out uncle
|
| As I punk you with the funk
|
| Watch you buckle like a punk will
|
| Another chump killed
|
| As I chuckle pumpin' steel through the steel
|
| So that I can steal the show
|
| The bunk had no appeal
|
| Meaning that I don’t feel the whack
|
| EVEN when you be feeling that
|
| No matter how slow you go
|
| You still got no-THING to say
|
| When skills are softer than clay matter
|
| C’mon man, that ain’t where the cash is
|
| You musta thought that pretty ass shit was gon' make
|
| Some dough on the strength of those promo pictures
|
| Ho
|
| Blow me down
|
| I gets down
|
| That even if we go just one more round
|
| And I’m from the 'O'
|
| Challenging you in your own goddam town
|
| And I know the homies gon' clown
|
| When they hear the profound thoughts and
|
| Experiences applied from my strife to the
|
| End of your life on this mic
|
| The years run off by the hour
|
| The aspirations FLEE with the YEARS
|
| As they get devoured with time
|
| Eventually you will age and collapse
|
| What good are your raps if your
|
| Synapses can’t fire
|
| The rapid rhymin' and tactics
|
| That I can flash with
|
| Automatically blastin' back and
|
| Cappin' and laughin' at all of this whack
|
| Material that you brought
|
| Devoid of substance lacking
|
| Action between word and thought and
|
| Perhaps it’s best for e’rybody
|
| If we just cut short
|
| Silence
|
| You itch you lust
|
| Your breath is taken
|
| When you awaken
|
| In the state of the shock
|
| Thoughts of ex-communication
|
| And the implications of that situation
|
| Racin' through your floggin' stopped up
|
| Noggin' as you’re massagin'
|
| You’re jarred
|
| What’s that you saw
|
| You try rememberin' but it’s foggier than
|
| Fisherman’s wharf
|
| At six in the mornin'
|
| Through the gloom of dawn
|
| Your doom is doomin' like the
|
| Moon you know when you’ll be due
|
| And you’ll die and soon
|
| And when you die
|
| Your heart stops
|
| The brain is TECHNICALLY ALIVE
|
| For three or four minutes
|
| Digesting the curse for the next 24 hours
|
| Give or take a smidgen
|
| Blood remains viable for several hours and
|
| Settles down once the body’s downside is
|
| Darker and you will mottle
|
| The grip of rigor mortise clenches it’s fist
|
| And two to six hours
|
| Relinquishes
|
| Two to three days later by this time
|
| The stomach is bloated with gaseous
|
| Fumes consumin' will blow shit up fo' sho'
|
| Oh by the way
|
| The flesh decomposes fast
|
| Veins and skin turn
|
| Blue, purple, green and black
|
| Nose and softer tissue turns to a
|
| Jelly consistency thicker than Jell-O
|
| Cornea of the eyes are no longer clear
|
| Sickly jaundiced yellow
|
| When you see and it softens
|
| Eyes they melt in their sockets
|
| Watch the skin pull away
|
| From the gum-line leavin' no lips
|
| So what’s left and
|
| A wicked grin
|
| Bacteria thrive nightcrawlers fill
|
| No morrow only hunger
|
| Maggots arrived and now’s devourin'
|
| Decayed and sourin'
|
| But hey
|
| Really though
|
| Why even trip
|
| It ain’t
|
| Only the physical in which
|
| Your consciousness exists
|
| And in the end
|
| Forensic details are about as important
|
| As the gear your sportin'
|
| So why even resist
|
| Ya trick
|
| You should desist and listen
|
| To the mix your missin'
|
| With the kicks that’s hittin'
|
| In the midst of the mist
|
| Into which your slippin'
|
| The lights start to dim
|
| And the lesson of infection
|
| You’re witnessin' is the wreckoning
|
| Winded old and you’ll POP
|
| You cease to exist
|
| Terror in your eyes
|
| And a smile on your lips
|
| When you hear the remix
|
| You cease to exist
|
| Terror in your eyes
|
| And a smile on your lips
|
| When your heart lights up
|
| You cease to exist
|
| Terror in your eyes
|
| And a smile on your lips
|
| When you hear the lyrics
|
| You cease to exist
|
| Terror in your eyes
|
| And a smile on your lips |