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Old 10-24-2013, 09:59 PM   #327
Twisted Science
Killah God Knolege
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Join Date: Feb 2009
Location: New Folsom, Cali
Age: 38
Posts: 776
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Twisted Science shaolin monk

signed ‘n’ dated, I travel thru time ‘n’ space shapeless / a rap atheist yo, I question all equations / grace me like Macie Gray ‘n’ Julio Iglesias / my ears pop, turn up tha stereo, Hip Hop the aerials with hatred / dig tha burial plot for rap / contact highs, I lace tha joint then I cremate tha track / serious, my peers fear me when I grip tha pen / my lyrics sparkle, your pussies gargle dick farcical shit / script tha cardinal article, atomic particles combine / low on feul, molecules, feudal servants feud with iron duels / unwind tha complex connections, ashes to ashes / splashin’ heat, buggin’ on beats is my affection / Jay-Z stole from GZA on Geffen / electrocution from my elocution, my text threatens from Tallahassee to Hemet / so hard I carve my name in set cement, I flip nonsense unless you truly listen / what Science brings is wicked like evil Wiccans / each specific steez I drift in piques the interest, interest peaks / me against peek-a-boo MCs is Shakespearean soliloquies towards Dr. Seuss simplicity / Twist, iller than syphillus ‘n’ AIDS mixed, my threats head direct to a solar plexus ‘n’ compound fracture ribcages / madd rich off of wages of sin payed direct to deposit / it’s a coup d’ tat when tha God spit discustin’ botched abortion shit / clips, Glocks ‘n’ four-nickels kicked when I shot Pac ‘n’ Big / I’ma die in tha studio like Dirt, high as fuck / rogue, all in loose-fitted black attire with a runny nose / I let tha hungry know if I go hungry nobodies’ gonna fuckin’ eat, otherwise it’s gravy on tha mashed pah-tatie / I want 2nds, pork chops salted with tha applesauce gauged to playoff what I ate, I clean plates / fabled in tha streets of Lost Angels, tha fake I disable ‘em / with mic cords, I strangle ‘em, finagle ‘em / isosceles, right degree angle ‘em, Dr. Mengele deranged fateful ‘em / Mansonite Sharon Tate ‘em / laid up, sabertooth serenades created when I talk fatal / cradle to tha fertile crescent, herbal essence / progressive, restive, I spit ‘n’ spear exits appear with no entrance / pensive thoughtworthy benedictions, verbal exhibitionism / MCs get smitten ‘n’ bit wearin’ turtlenecks to hide Science’s incisions / global turnin’, vocal sermons liturgic / doper than yola mix ‘n’ tha worst part is my bars is worse when tha hungry harvest / resentments starvin’, all these false femcees is carbon copies of each other / brother killin’ brothaz, verse supplement / ya heard Milo comin’, ‘n’ your bitch-ass tucked it in / tha proverbial fifth to your fuckin’ wig…
Errors in Twisted's lyrics are solely typist's & not reflective of Twist's original handwritten work. Typewritten work is sent snail mail to Twisted in bing, he corrects & returns them for posting.
Spitting over phone from prison -Gretzky
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