Songwriter: Trunks (Canada)
Producer: MF DOOM
[Trunks]
I'm landlord of the amp cord, priest to the beats
Preach to the choir, set fire to the streets
(pick apart ya flow arm?), torture rap, ya weak rat
Put space in your bars, control alt delete that
Heimlich flow, it got you choked up
Wanna copy something, come and paste these nuts
Fool me once then shame on you
Second time around that joke's on rue
Ever wanted whoever get it whoever gotta
Whoever pumped it, whoever cocked it, whoever shot 'er
Body shape you til your bones are like maracas
Dre with the game, drunk on vodka playing docta
Now that's an image for the mind, I'm picture perfect in my prime
We can scrimmage for the line
Man I'm in it for the grime, and I'm in it for the shine
And you in it when it prime, and you in it for.... fine
I'm like a pistol wielding poacher
For all of you culture vultures
Snapping your girls over the shoulder
Boulder holder
Told you they figure they bigger?
Dig a bigger ditch
Beat him with a brick
Til all of his limbs twitch
Grind on his bitch
Til the DJ yells switch
???? carved in stone
That's carving out an itch
You itch for a scratch
Ain't no cure for your poems
Ain't no future to be had
From no cubicle walls
(Poe of?) disgruntled workers
See his bosses neck and choke it
Wrote his will
On the back of a pack of post-its
On that note, I regret to inform his closest
Friends and family, his future now is hopeless
Light at the end of the tunnel, you niggas should focus
Cause what's coming, trust me, you can't afford not to notice
Yall finished, I'm just getting started
Hear yall rhyme my heart starts to harden
I'm landlord of the amp cord, priest to the beats
Preach to the choir, set fire to the streets
(pick apart ya flow arm?), torture rap, ya weak rat
Put space in your bars, control alt delete that
Heimlich flow, it got you choked up
Wanna copy something, come and paste these nuts
Fool me once then shame on you
Second time around that joke's on rue
Ever wanted whoever get it whoever gotta
Whoever pumped it, whoever cocked it, whoever shot 'er
Body shape you til your bones are like maracas
Dre with the game, drunk on vodka playing docta
Now that's an image for the mind, I'm picture perfect in my prime
We can scrimmage for the line
Man I'm in it for the grime, and I'm in it for the shine
And you in it when it prime, and you in it for.... fine
I'm like a pistol wielding poacher
For all of you culture vultures
Snapping your girls over the shoulder
Boulder holder
Told you they figure they bigger?
Dig a bigger ditch
Beat him with a brick
Til all of his limbs twitch
Grind on his bitch
Til the DJ yells switch
???? carved in stone
That's carving out an itch
You itch for a scratch
Ain't no cure for your poems
Ain't no future to be had
From no cubicle walls
(Poe of?) disgruntled workers
See his bosses neck and choke it
Wrote his will
On the back of a pack of post-its
On that note, I regret to inform his closest
Friends and family, his future now is hopeless
Light at the end of the tunnel, you niggas should focus
Cause what's coming, trust me, you can't afford not to notice
Yall finished, I'm just getting started
Hear yall rhyme my heart starts to harden