Sheep Lord:

Game gear game solid try actual factually telling me it isn't polished
interpenetrating “Rip N Raw” as another way to spit this
wicked weapon check settling mind melding
what cha be meddling leaving those leveling
introspective check your station frequency
entity enemy deadly when I emceeing it
dusted blown busted mechanical crafts be baths bathed in floods
ways you wouldn't even imagine when we tangle in dog fights
wired nights be curb stomps time thumps be bumps taken
awaken sinking into pages wages be garments
we holding torches
Back pack rap rat pack
Mack pack act
I’m a biker mouse from mars
Know the bars I plays guitars
Come off the ark
Never run another mans rebar
Read the covers off the books
Teaching seeds Shaolin style
Wild guile mild off the roots
Reboot on suits I recruit
Delete you off the computer

Noel411 aka George Stark the Dark Half:

I lyrically dispatch wack rappers, back packers
smack actors, track slasher, fag basher, hag hacker
back smack her pretty face, a gritty mace splits her, waste
sliding down her legs, right now she begs, a scythe splits her waist
give me a taste of that blood, I stop and cut a chunk of flesh
you've come to test the quality? Apologies, there's none left...

I'm a beast, when unleashed death's the least of your worries
not appeased by your grief, maggot please, I'm not sorry
cut deep, a fucken creep, slut teaser, gut squeezer
rusty cleaver cuts, leave ya guts for lunch in my freezer
in grimy basements, find me pacing, life erasing
knifing Asian wives with patience, wipe your face, no crying, tasting
raw flesh, more death, four left, you're next
short steps, draw breath, draw sword, force necks
to sever, too clever, you never knew better
dude I'll get ya cos I never lose, ever!
Decapitation, bash your face in, fucken faggot
pluckin' maggots from your sockets, gonna drop it, fucken drag it
through the gravel, use a gavel, lose a battle? useless babble
you unravel through your travels to my gallows, choose to dabble
in dark arts, Stark's heart's past the mark
of being cold, I've been told he eats bowls of car parts
and shits steel, shit's real, kids squeal, split lips heal
quit dealing with the itch like a bitch and sit still
I take the reins and make it rain and break the chains
they placed to strain me and tame me, inflate my aches and pains
wake my brain from a slumber, take on numbers of adversaries
that curse at me in bursts of speech, it worsens with each further breach
of their rules, I've got the tools to win a war
and skin a whore, I bring a claw hammer, plan to bring it forth
and swing with force into your jaw and splinter all your fucking teeth
you're stuck in grief, I'm stuck in weaving knife patterns while I'm rappin'
a violent chap and I'll attack and smack a faggot
bury blades so deep, yo Sheep, no beep, I have to pack a magnet
hacking rats in stagnant sewers, hack computers, track intruders
trapping shooters, acting ruthless, smack him toothless, packing's useless
the hatchet hacks while you're still hatching wack excuses.

Three emcees, hacking wack cats with fat hatchets, track exclusives.