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Lyrics
[verse]:[1]
I fashion, lines of true madness
anyone I battle, you find as new ashes
try to grapple, you die in cruel matches
my rhymes splatter your mind in two fragments
just like an axe-hit, driving the steel
entire masses I'm attacking ... I'm dying to kill
there ain't no remedy or medicine that I can ingest
to make me better, I'm possessed by Devil, I guess
my bars are my heat... so I'm armed to the teeth
Q-Park on the beat, two sharks in the sea
don't start sh** with me, you hardly compete
we spark up the weed, crews narc to the police,
cats ain't no friend me -- I'm smashin the industry
they be on their last leg, I be like centipede
ain't no way they'll catch me, I release my energy
and with my enemies deceased - I achieve an inner-peace
[hook]:[1]
[Now, Now] it's that raw underground sh**
if you doubt it, run your mouth
get your teeth kicked down it
clown, round me, you better be 'bout it,
surrounded by this crowd, you'll never be found
[Now, Now] -- this is raw underground sh**
if you doubt it, run your mouth
get your teeth kicked down it
clown, round me, you better be 'bout it,
surrounded by this crowd, you'll never be found [Now, Now]
[verse]:[2]
the heavy-metal packin-rebel stabbing weapons in-to
every little Mitchell & Ness genuine, mesh-linen
leather or fitted "whatever" - rap fashion
veteran rags - attractin' mass predators,
my knuckle's swift, stick-jabs quick as missiles lift
swing with a deafinin' swish that pass "whistle-pitch"
witness flesh I rip, tissue and ligaments
bit with a viciousness, spit any, gristle-bits
it's the menacing wall-crawler who follows
and mauls ballers to saw off the skulls of most all of em
not gonna rob 'em or bother with dollars in wallets,
I crave meat - same problem as Dahmer
the godless monster ...crawling the swamps
where atomic bombs been fallen for month, yall
skeletal structure still imbedded in tungston
plus so many other elements yall never could bust it
[hook]:[2]
[verse]:[3]
it's the foul mouth kid
sound knock from my box like a round house kick
shouts from the crowd, drowned out from the hit
towel on the ground, thrown down by ya clique
one round K.O. is a common occurance
caus-in' my opponents to be constantly nervous
novice's murdered, versus all of my perfect
songs and my verses, if yall wanna worship
DZK like the churches, pray, in their service, stay,
a certain length, away from what I say
cuz these days, they bite right off my page
so my mic stay inside an iron divers cage
my spiral darts aim, striking target veins
startin viral strains through the heart's main
circulation, alert the nation,
brace for the age of the serpent, Satan