| I’m the durable mammal, Moka Only the complete abnormality
|
| Fatality maker, don’t you sleep
|
| Why? |
| It’s detrimental that you set your mental clock right
|
| So you can catch the prime example of those who rock right
|
| The top tight, my mic’s made of alabaster
|
| Castin' shadows the size of Mount Shasta before I smash ya
|
| I promise to be the bombest, I gotta say that
|
| You want to die? |
| Well you can be accommodated
|
| To be honest, you soft like hummus
|
| To be on another plateau you gotta rap pro or become sawdust
|
| I’ll Husqvarna? |
| that ass with no exception
|
| Been ill since my conception, I come for the collection
|
| Same ol' cash respectin' bitches I can’t front yo
|
| Bizzy D went back to the hotel an' spelled his name in dough
|
| I’m hella pro, a rappers work is never done
|
| I like necks, I think I’m 'bout to suck one
|
| I put my pressure on the corners and cave the box in
|
| There’s homicide on my breath and rhyme circles of sin
|
| See if I don’t re-animate the meat grinders grain
|
| In the 8 wing where gray veins protrude from my gray rings
|
| My collection of strange things include:
|
| A barreling delivery like a Winchester and a pool full of crude
|
| Oil in my turmoil ridden block of ill rhythm
|
| Where cracker cockroaches talk about class division
|
| See I’m not stuck in a strucked out function
|
| I adapt to the place I hear the bass bumpin'
|
| Keep every rhyme different, that’s a sign of affection
|
| Keep a bag of Buc Fifties in my cabinet of medicine
|
| Make sure the door’s locked and your deadbolt’s fastened
|
| Your worst nightmare that shares no compassion
|
| Acid flashbacks get hacked up into fractions
|
| Sergeant’s road kill, still missing in action
|
| An unaffectionate date, I’m section 8
|
| Let’s play, you be the bride of death and decay
|
| Do you stay awake at night thinking of the things you should worry about?
|
| Follow this blood trail and hurdle through the forest of doubt, til I’m out
|
| In the wide open plains, hopin' to maintain
|
| The same yield, but the field’s littered with corpses
|
| Death is my departure, til then I’m explosive
|
| An overdose of death, spare me no thrill
|
| I’m rare, bare me no ill will, I’m there
|
| The last man standing, never call a truce
|
| Apologize? |
| Nah, strength needs no excuse |