Emphasis the snatom, soul crack the atom Internal affecter, 85 detector My optic analyse ghetto, supreme spectrum Glass profile the style, bling reflect
come out the soundproof booth Or poof, plucked in your bubble goose A lost angel, I strangle at an angle that's obtuse Yo, my styles viscous, put niggas
me everyday Different women wanna kick it but you scare them away Now I get offended when you come around 'Cause I'm tired of my organs (Your organs?)
around me everyday Different women wanna kick it But you scare them away Now I get up ended When you come around ?Cause I'm tired of my organs Going
it's worth your while Do somethin' good to me (Let's make it) Hot as you can stand it Somethin' like volcanic You and me seems organic Just like the
'cause she cut her pimp's throat The ordinary prostitute, she got the power u Made niggaz come back, spendin mad loot Her style's wild with the blade
hi, i'm an ordinary organism and i was kinda linging the walls in a warzone, slamdance, backbeat poison and meandering i hear the little voice say oh
beat and laced Nas Stop hating motherfucker, go hard! [Chorus] [Benzino] Benzino strike back - most hated, fuck this rap game Reputed gang banga, accused drug slanga.. thug Rhyme sick style
hall with rap aerosol Organized graffiti lectures in can control Or level with the devil racing uptown first to Fort Apache I'm much too much for any demon style
Yo I gotta get mines, no matter what the con-sequences Count up my blessings, add up my weapons Cock back the gat and let my nine serve purpose Sling do my thing organize
Hey Alexia what a party you are having tonight How did you organize such a thing? Party is ratatatalatata rat Party ta ra ta ta ta pa pa Every
Hey Alexia, what a party you are having tonight How did you organize such a thing? Party, party Party, party Party, party Every time is the same situation
flex styles Niggas vacate the premises and become exiles I manufacture rhymes like textiles of x-files And lighten juveniles Living life with no purpose Organize
egyptian jamaican Swordplay from the deep isolation, whattup cousin? Have a drink on the house, I blow mics out This man is on fire, fully developed Dance with the organizer
the bio Of the Misfit Burnin pyro with victim much whackness Im def with sickness A pound of vicks Aint makin it more clear As I kicks this From my inferno Internal organs
and the kids Sat right up and heard the preachin', even wore my Christmas tie I'm not much on organ music, 5 String Banjo's more on my style Your man
SV Urban organic, mic mechanic Super human MC powers help me fly around the planet Touch the Microphone device, whole countries get flattened Saving damsels
power of Lord Titus But I am the virus inside of the iris of Cyrus Upon papyrus I kill snipers and body vipers And strangle you with the organs of rioters