I'm word-tastic, Kurt Ratchet, you herbs wack
I spit crack, leave your pop filter smelling like burnt plastic
I'm just flipping words, my shit is verbal gymnastics
Now please chill and observe practice
I literally consider myself a literary master
Smoking cannabis with me before a show could be a disaster
I'm obscene as every hood movie's black pastor
Fuck blasting, when I see you I'mma smack past ya
This is track number three with the legend from Boston
Wow, I'm wicked awesome
I'm the type to skip on a foursome in Boston
To trip and taunt and either get floored in
The lip or put that shit to the floor, son
I'm iller than Illa plus Anti-Phyllis with raw some
Syllables, I just toss 'em
Into such intricate patterns you
Would think I'd run out of shit to say
But all you could do is pray 'cause I'm not done
Back on my shit, it's vicious, I
Cut 'em like lacerigis
Sick as sticking syringes in hip bitches, I'm twisted
We mask up and we go hard in the winter
Hardened gorillas father their children
To clatter-tatter pharmacy stickers
A robbery is like a lottery to us
Poverty struck us and molded us just like poverty dishes
Youngins hunting for victims, pop 'em for doctors to fix 'em
Shout to them job switching bitches, let me
Check my rock in their kitchen for crumbs
I get down, prescription pill on my tongue
Shit I used to be young, now I'm as sick as they come, it's vicious
Malicious and numb, the terror that rip through these slums
Blind to the risk, I confront everyday gripping my gun
Living like scum, I'm a monster from the heart of the heartless
A product of a circle of sinners that's living godless
Hostage to this nonsense, bare arms on tolerance
Napalm apocalypse on wax, I demolish shit, it's vicious
B-Town, what up? I rock shows on the daily
Promoters try to book me, I'm like, "Fuck you, pay me"
They were sleeping 'til I hooked up with Slaine-y
Fuck the law, I'mma go hard 'til they arraign me
Battle rap slash Mad Hatter with a battle axe
Swinging where your hat is at, smashing and detaching at 'em
Tuck a burner, taking 'em up into no one's corner
I find a bum on the street and smack his cup of quarters
Taking some molly with a Somalian in a Ferrari
On a safari up in Narnia, you blow like a harmonica
I'm Monica, you couldn't see me with binoculars
You are below me, that means I am on top of ya
I'll turn your chick into a porn star
Film that bitch blowing me and put that shit on Worldstar
Drug sniffer, cunt licker, dirty grunt spitter
Lyrical gunslinger, I let my buzz linger
I'm catching charges at the garden for mobbing and robbing Knicks fans
Grief for the last shit you see before the mismatched
Smith's mask, been in the cell, ain't give enough whiplash
Tap with that kickstand more than you could withstand
Fuck it, if their poetry's deep they always fail
They told tall tales like cold shoulders in Hell
I hold my own, holding this lowered over your head
Left all you know when it's over, your head is over your legs
For me to flow from the head is what they hope but what's dead
Give me a moment to blast for us to toast to the flesh
Administer, I send a star belittling them widdle bars
Quit spitting, that's just too much talk and too little heart
They better have the iron sheets stepping on my dogs
'Cause if I apply the iron sheets you sleeping on the floor
In spite of what you saw, ain't nothing as violent as the god
Got you hiding out like you fucking riding out a storm
I'm ill 'cause I slaughter your crew, guilty of bodying you
Yeah I know you in the building, I heard the audience boo
I emerge with deep words, beat herbs on street curbs
You sounded gully for a second, that must be the reverb
I get money in traffic and I ain't talking Zankel Bridge
I'm breaking ribs of hating kids from Gothenburg to Cambridge
Ayo Slaine, they got a table down at Strangeforest
Plates bigger than the one fed on a Stegosaurus
Every time I rhyme cats wanna delay the chorus
Walk through the B without green, look like a major tourist
Fuck with Esoteric, you better arrange a florist
'Cause I'm flying, I'm deadly, they gotta spray the forest
I'm the nicest motherfucker 'round when I'm writing
But I'm biased just a little, ask Tommy Heisen
You delicate rappers are deemed irrelevant
How you whore yourself out but still you ain't celibate
I became exactly everything you feared I would be
Seen the Devil, man, it put the Holy Spirit in me
People looking at me like nobody weirder than me
Couldn't hear me though unless they had the ear of the street
But my style's unchanged, still known by one name
To all the unsane, throwing dick to any dumb dame
My shit is banging, I should spit this in a gun range
Fallen angel sluts addicted to my cum stains
My people say it's dangerous to hang with me
But my peoples is just scandalous and angry
You staring at the enemy, my face is trouble
The public frowns on me like I'm an interracial couple
I'm a sick fuck renegade in front of you
You make me laugh, I never been afraid of one of you
Your eyes are crossed, you ain't a boss, you're just full of Henny
Try and stop me, you would have to put a bullet in me
