[Slug]Hence forth, step within my psychoanalysiscallouses upon my
mind make me strain for my linesout I ripped it, squeezed the
brain: it made some liquiddrained it in a cup and then I sipped
itAtmosphere! The mic let me clutch itthoughts take flight so
fit the Slug in your pipe and take apuff kidfuck it! I heat it
like a tea pot - steam hotupon the roof: shoot a marble with the
verbal slingshottake aim, here I came, I'm the sameBack in
'86, I'da tag my name upon your window panestained the
mind: a deep shade of residuevoices within the head make choices
multiplemultiply Spawn, Slug a little buzzand Atmosphere the
scuds, cuz here come the judgeblasted; so pass the kid a mic so
we can paint thisimage of the gifted-anxious, to flip the
languageit's the noun meltdown from the outer-shellnow
smell the burning flesh fresh from the hell-boundand come on
down here, this mind path, I'm half-mathematic Atmospheric
staff with the rhyme craftcomin to capture, your
after-laughterwhile I'm hangin from this rafter, I have to
rip this rapturecuz the cramps in my stomach, dismantlewhen I
tamper with your amplifier, damn you die...Why try?The sky
presents an eternally unfolding spectacle:One moment puffs of
cumulous clouds get across itand next a billowing
thunderheadperhaps 10 miles high looms over the horizonprobing
the structure of the sky...Why try?Cause I can read an emcee
from front to backfrom the cover to the classified - I've
pacifiedmy mind with my rhyme skills - I climb hillsand leap,
foolish twitch with a single boundsending tingles down your
spine, designed to swing a poundthis ax-handle triple-inch-spike
protrudingfrom the tip of my mic distrubuting fuckin
headshotsshots to your head, now you're knee-deep, you need
sleepas you trutch thru the sludge and the slugs and the bird
shitwe swarm with the bees and diseasesand even if your deejay
was Jesus, you could never fuck withthese kidsI've swarmed
with the bees and diseasesand even if your deejay was Jesus, you
could never fuck withthese kids[Spawn]Yea muthafucka! you know
who you fuckin withyou know what kind of ass whooping comes with
thisyour whole crew could get some of this,your wack ass fuck
kids is what the subject isroughnecks live, for only a
secondthen they giveoblivion's, what you've stepped
inyour reps t, should have been lookinI'm sick of you
bitch-ass crews when:you tried take what's not your but
'cha couldn'ttake mine, your fake rhymes - spit them
you shouldn'twhat will it be now? another victoryyo who
will it be now? it's Spawn that emceecomplete, a true champ
- stamp that on my essenceamped shootin presence, fattenin each
fuckin sentencewhen its time, then it's time to
gothat's what I know, be rippin mics at every show we
flowbut who's got my back though?[Slug]Stress, Beyond, ANT,
the Slug[Spawn]so you best be on your way before there's
trouble...