1597

hence forth

step within my psychoanalysis

callouses upon my mind make me strain for my lines

out i ripped it

squeeeeezed the brain: it made some liquid

drained it in a cup and then i sipped it

atmosphere! the mic let me clutch it

thoughts take flight so fit the slug in your pipe and take a puff kid

fuck it! i heat it like a tea pot - steam hot

upon the roof: shoot a marble with the verbal slingshot

take aim

here i came

i'm the same

back in '86

i'da tag my name upon your window pane

stained the mind: a deep shade of residue

voices within the head make choices multiple

multiply spawn

slug a little buzz

and atmosphere the scuds

cause here come the judge

blasted; so past the kid a mic so we can paint this

image of the gifted-anxious

to flip the language

it's the noun meltdown from the outer-shell

now smell the burning flesh fresh from the hell-bound

and come on down here

this mind path

i'm half-

mathematic atmospheric staff with the rhyme craft

comin to capture

your after-laughter

while i'm hangin from this rafter

i have to rip this rapture

cause the cramps in my stomach

dismantle

when i tamper with your amplifier

damn-you die. why try?

the sky presents an eternally unfolding spectacle: one moment puffs of cumulous clouds get across it

and next a billowing thunderhead

perhaps 10 miles high looms over the horizon

probing the structure of the sky. why try?

cause i can read an emcee from front to back

from the cover to the classified - i've pacified

my mind with my rhyme skills - i climb hills

and leap

foolish twitch with a single bound

sending tingles down your spine

designed to swing a pound

this ax_handle_tripled inch_spike_protruding

from the tip of my mic distrubuting fuckin headshots

shots to your head

now your're knee-deep

you need sleep

as you trutch thru the sludge and the slugs and the bird shit

we swarm with the bees and diseases

and even if your deejay was jesus

you could never fuck with these kids

i've swarmed with the bees and diseases

and even if your deejay was jesus

you could never fuck with these kids

yea muthafucka! you know who you fuckin with

you know what kind ass whooping comes with this

your whole crew could get some of this

your wack ass fuck kids is what the subject is

roughnecks live

for only a second

then they give oblivion's

what you've stepped in

your reps token

should have been lookin

i'm sick of you bitch-ass crews when: you tried take what's not your but 'cha couldn't

take mine

your fake rhymes - spit them you shouldn't

what will it be now? another victory

ayo who will it be now? it's spawn that emcee

complete

a true champ - stamped that on my essence

amped shootin presence

fattenin each fuckin sentence

when it's time

then it's time to go

that's what i know

be rippin mics at every show we flow

but who's got my back though?

stress

beyond

ant

the slug

so you bests be on your way before there's trouble.