Illy and Eksplicit, dedicated past a decade
Move today’s game of hip hop from check to checkmate
Levitate while hawking nasty lugees at these lemmings
And suggest to looking elsewhere if you like the lyrics friendly
I’m in these darkest places, where the liquor gladly sends me
Choke you with a necktie til you feel the fucking frenzy
Catch this stranger on a train, and then I’m gone without a trace
Without a shadow of a doubt we’ll break a rake across your face
We make the lyrics that’ll actually mean something
Stay against the grain and strive to keep the steez rugged
These geeks are bugging like the eyes of Tori Spelling
Bust your swollen fucking melon, keep things gory and compelling
Graphic storytelling at its finest like The Swamp Thing
While you’re stuck in the image of some snotty fucking prom king
Haunting with these zombies, day or night, like George Romero
Steady walking with the dead throughout a town of hopeless zeroes


Born on a Monday, like Solomon Grundy
You keep up with Kardashians, I kick it with the Bundy’s
Can’t take nothing from me, fucking scum of earth and loser type
Lowest of the low, that’s somehow bringing things to newer heights
Dishing out some new advice, can’t separate the truth from lies
Digging up these graves while calling one eight hundred suicide
We’re living in some foolish times, the land of great pretenders
Taking way too much for granted, time to stage a fake surrender
Sometimes dead is better, bet we keep them brains lapsing
Flip the circuit breaker; find a flash in pan has been
Before you actually can track this irrational craftsman
I’m zapped on planet acid, flashing back to Pan’s Labyrinth
Drank a batch of absinthe, start attacking with a hatchet
On the verge of a nervous breakdown, overworked like Bob Cratchit
So in haphazard fashion, I snag my last chances
And strangle nasty bitches out, like Jack did Nurse Ratched