marinate tha track, King Herod, lace tha battle stance / vocal warrior, open your eyes, see I’m a voyeur / liberated, call your lawyer, lost in tha transliteration, literized in tha literature, ya get tha picture? duct cassette tape your bitch-ass mouth shut / spit Gillettes from my tongue, cut your face up / laid up in tha corner, ready to torture, signs like Magnavox / loudly, magne cum laude, rouse tha crowd / espoused to Hip Hop / golden ropes around a MC’s neck in a slipknot ‘cuz these artists is more pussy than in between a bitch’s crotch / peace be to tha Gods whose legal illegality origins prior to my crew in tha Spun Fernando Valley / yo papi, are you proud of me? where did Hense go? I suppose he powderin’ his nose with Real, Cloud ‘n’ Zone / 206 bones crack on time rhythmic wit Twisted’s ingrown metronome, treacherous, trapped in Cali State sexless yet I remain hetero / all y’all is false like tha son of Japetto / when I parole I’ma buy a hoe offa Sunset ‘n’ Normandie wearin’ 6 inch stilettos / best time to have sex is when your fresh awoke / Heavens’ to Mergatroid, poised with fists clenched / never hesitant, I’m indecisive / why, it’s 730 - check tha throat/ razor sharp fingertips reach in, pull out your lymph nodes…
Last edited by Twisted Science; 08-16-2012 at 12:06 PM.