obliterate, I liberate kids from tha warped sense of tha Hip Hop Generation that they’ve been exposed with / yo dunn, Scientific spits sick with his hand on his scrotum / so dope, it’s like a hundred grams on tha stove son / I shine brighter than solar coronas ‘n’ perfect 24 carat diamonds/ celestial beings rotate Science / still, you can’t see me, yet all you heretics dream of me potent with my elevated intelligence quotient / 4 Elements of Hip Hop get spit, I split knots like CIA operatives, I’m psy-chotic / in hide-away spots like Jimmy Hoffa / cop a feel, cop tha purist mega-zealous hella cure for tha rap sickness / cat, I’ll catch ya slippin’ like crack pipes outta wet hands / ninja, scram before you crap out wearin’ those lame-ass skinny pants / tha 4-5th semi-automatic toast’ll splash ‘n’ take 3 fingers off your fuckin’ hand…
Any errors in Twisted's lyrics are solely that of typist & not in any way reflective of Twist's original handwritten work. Twist reviews typewritten work sent him by snail mail, any needed corrections are made & returned via snail mail from Twist who is in belly of beast.
Listen to me spit over phone from prison, serving 12 yrs for robbery
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