[ras kass] We on some phantom of the opera shit It's the gothic shit As I produce the waterproof mask You never ask the question, who's the man behind the red mask? About to a driveby on mc's so listen Aiyyo!
Yo my mic check is robo-tech Run over the track till my lyrical gigapet slow flow Cardiac arrest like flojo, rock ice ro-ro Pack fo-fo fo' sure though More and more cream, and niggaz still love you rakeem The game of death, we kickin niggaz in the chest like kareem My wingspan is wider than rodan My sweet and sour niggaz wit nose candy sniff blow by the gram I gramatically slam, before I eat a groupie bitch pussy The honorable minister louis farrakhan is eatin ham So catch me in deep space nine Wit eight million stories on seven continents And six billion bullets on the star trek Solid state logic thug niggaz electronic Eat, drink, sleep, shit, fuck, build and smoke chronic Playa, this is not a game, I said it before Went through the door I came wit wu-tang The artist formerly know as you Got snatched out his truck on florence and normandy duke We strictly digital
[bobby digital] Yo, yo, yo, yo The last starfighter, my thoughts make the sun shine brighter I bust in a bitch mouth to make her teeth seem whiter Roam like space drones through all time zones Your face get blown, I make home, bobby'll fuck grace jones Mocha caps without lithium cristal Raise the pendulum cuts through your ear tissue, digital signal Scramble your brain then we gain the visuals Like microsoft, I might micro-walk before the lights go off You develic bitches, I give your tonsils eighty stitches Bobby long storm, even fuck the eastwick witches
Printer Friendly Version