Warcloud, Sobretti, Roadblock, Professional (that's me mother fucker!) I'd like to give a phat shout out to my nigga Bootface, giving you boots to the face The American Poets, yo: I pop you in the back of the wig with an old pistol Balcony to horse like old John ?Wilkspooth? Speak with impediments, murderer in your residence Marshals gun me down in a bath house in Lexingberg Warcloud, Elephant-man, skeleton hand Stash the Crown Jewels in a statue, I came to blast you Gun-Powder-Keg we make wine in a bath tub During prohibition I munch grapes and blast slugs Eighty-eight glass jugs, dusty rifle on war plaque Wolf pack of raw cats, slump you with heavy tall gats A ghost wrapped in bandages laughed his way up the burgundy Five city kids wearing eye patches in the thirties I lick off shots from a crop-duster, granola raps Chicks get a hold of that, come and sit on a soldiers lap You have a weak ass flow that I shall administer to Gangs tackle crews, sight spinner, the wine opener Bump you till I slump you, Warcloud the butcher dumps you A pyramid made of pearl came from ?Talumpu? Unquenchable fire, I cut you open with water Trap you with a jagged earth structure and proceed to slaughter Call my rap Carnage, one-million and eight crowns This is the carnival of the carnivorous clowns, atomic sound The wood cutter where birds flock, busting crazy absurd shots Ultimate heavy cannon mega ton blast and dash Last zombie swordsmen came to blast the city, Eat a hungry planet, the one with the scarlet rain Deranged and insane, my rhymes liquidize your brain It's the executioner song with spiked chains Race hammer slammer, a weak rapper beneath the concrete A heavy dead horse just galloped in from Long Beach My rhyme style is crazy like piranhas that eat a baby Cyber Tropic what your whole crew is snuffed