Some Rap pit

Wack MCs catch a hook to the head cuz they don't know about the African books of the dead

Talkin out your assHOLE You shoulda learnt about the flow and peasy afro

Slit the cardiac, arrest me, excorcist hip-hop posess me Crunch a nigga like a Nestle, you know my STEEZ burning to the third degree, sneaky ass alley cat top pedigree

I breaks it down to the bone bristle
Ill speaking Scud missle

I slayed MC's back in the rec room era
My style broke motherfuckin backs like Ken Patera
Most rap niggaz came loud but unheard
Once I pulled ut, round em off to the nearest third

Flood the seminar, tryin to orbit this corporate
indsutry, but what them niggaz can't see
must break through like the Wu, unexpectedly

Protect Ya Neck, my sword still remain imperial
Before I blast the mic, RZA scratch off the serial
We reign all year round from June to June
While niggaz bite immediately if not soon

Set the lynchin, and form the execution date
As this two thousand beyond slang suffocate

Flying guillotines here they come, bloody bastards
Hard times and killer tactics, spittin words plus
semi-automatic slurs, peep the graphic
novel from the genie bottle, hit the clutch
shift the gear now, full throttle, time to bungee
To the next episode, I keeps it grungy
Hand on my nutsac, and spittin lung-ghies