Brooklyn Academy

[Verse 1 - Pumpkinhead]
I’m a beast of the underground
Hotter than lava rocks
You don’t know what time it is
Then go out and cop a watch
When drama pops, we fade niggas out like a barber shop
Y’all talk a lot, we stomp pimps out in the parking lot
Step on my block—that’s a mistake like when the condom pop
You got to stop before you get shot like Big and Pac
Two shots to your arm and your crouch
We bombin’ your spot, we got it on lock
Please believe I got the heat up the sleeve
So sick, I’m a living breathing disease, a hedonist sleaze
Who wants a piece of the cheese
When I creep through the trees like Vietnamese
Reach for the breeze before I lift your feet off the leaves
Now you eager to leave—get back in your seat
While your lady feelin’ on my meat like a catholic priest
Like L.L. in the back of the jeep
We swinging episodes, the Tech’ll blow, your neck explodes
Now you got extra holes aside from your ears, mouth, and your nose
A fully composed masterpiece—I was fully exposed
To the altered beast in my heart
I’m sick in the head
Don’t become the quick of the dead
I got a six-shot revolver lodged in my esophagus with one bullet
Eight-millions stories in this world untold
So in my notebook is where I put ‘em
You just a Jr. like Cuba Gooding

[Verse 2 – Icon]
I’s insane in the brain and I might just kill a man like Cypress Hill
Throw him off the cliff with his head shaved
My chest caged, smokin’ C.I. backwoods
Type to walk through black hoods—black hood, black gun
Magnum big enough to pistol whip you
I sit and beat you into submission until both of your eyes are missin’
Knock your teeth out, give you gashes over your face
While the beatdown still pending like an open case
Y’all’ll take me to court—that’s how y’all do things
When I beat you down, you’ll scream out “Su” like Wu-Tang
Choke you with a belt, pull your pants over head
Range Rover both of your legs. Oops, it’s over, you dead
Say goodbye now. Niggas gettin’ wiped out
And I ain’t gonna stop ‘til there’s blood all over the White House
Tell George Bush to call Bill Clinton
And have him call Monica Lewinski ‘cause the boy is spittin’
I’m sick with it. They got me watchin’ my rear view
I’m looking for steel to stomp him with steel shoes
When I was born, they put me inside my grave first
I’m lookin’ for God in the Garden of Eden he made first
I found the serpent and choked his ass so fast it reversed the process of Earth—birth to the first Earth
I’m Pearl Harbor to the third power. I’m like the Japanese
The way I’m clappin’ when I’m packin’ heat
I’m like the summer when you feel the heat
I’m like bullets from Pakistanis—that’s word to my baby mami
I spit sicker, malt liquor verse
I got it wrapped like turbans—watch how I swerve to the left
Bin Laden bullets burst in your chest
Big guns, big bombs, big bullets, AK and a vest, nigga

[Verse 3 - Block McCloud]
What? What you thought? I forgot how to spit?
Spit hot shit that stick like the top of my dick
Walk when I talk so my words are stalkin’
My thoughts, things, pluck your veins like guitar strings
Harborin’ a criminal’s thought like a priest in a pew
Listening to children whisperin’ in the dark
Scissor the heart—if you’re smart, you’ll swim with the sharks
Envision this block locked like where the prisoner watch
So in a battle, you doubt I’mma win—you goin’ out on a limb
Snake’ll have you jumpin’ out of your skin’
I’m sick like multiple sclerosis
Cult’ll kill your closet kin—sins can only be found through hypnosis
You got to crack the skull to pull out all the multiple personalities—it’s comp’rable to what I’ve done to you
I’ll come for you to sculpture you with scalpels. What do you prefer to lose?
Your genitals or two-thirds of your purple ooze?
I murder crews with surgical tools and drill bits
So when they ask what I did to this shit, “He killed it.”

[Verse 4 – Immortal Technique]
If you ever try to floss on me up in the cypher
Your platinum will fall apart like it’s made of Formica
You think you’re nice but I’m nicer
Like Ras Kass, Punisher, and KRS in a gene splicer
Fuck a Bentley—I’ll run you down in a Chrysler
My shit is raw like cocaine stuffed in a diaper
I shared cells with lifers when I was stuck in prison
Smokin’ Buddha like I was burning someone else’s religion
I lift my leg to urinate on conservative Christians
‘Cause you never seen a dog hold his dick while he’s pissin’
Listen instead of bitchin’ at the shit that I’m rippin’
‘Cause intellectual, murderous, spittin’ this copywritten
You can’t compare what you’re kickin’ to what I verbally did
I’m the Lord of the Flies, nigga, ‘cause I’m murderin’ kids
Run up in your crib without a fuckin’ camera crew
And confiscate your plaques for doing things that amateurs do
Sabotage, break down the industry, damagin’ you
A runaway slave—that’s how my stamina grew
I come through walkin’ on water like the messiah
I make bitches lose they mind like Mariah
I set tracks on fire like Betty Shabazz
And when I fuck, I burn rubber like Dominican cabs
Iron-clad armor, spit like a sub-machine
And burn your block to ashes like nuclear submarines

Ayo, bitch, put your finger in your ear. It’s squishy in there, right? That’s ‘cause I just raped your fuckin’ brain

[Verse 5 – Mr. Metaphor]
I’ll spit a five-star motion picture—let’s skip the previews
We throwin’ razor blades, y’all put to teaspoons
Get to know me. I’m your girl’s tenderoni
I’m the man in the whip with the place in the back, blinkin’ “Members Only”
And we ain’t takin’ applications
We the team that got the fastest break to five championships without a talent agent
I be on the real—I beat on your skill
I’ll kill your lawyer and I’ll pee on your deal
And I ain’t tryna be funny, I’m just tryna see money
Add to the game and keep the economy running
I’m going anywhere life takes me ‘cause there’s gotta be something
And by the time I’m out the game, see, there’ll be probably be nothing
I’m tryna move to the left and keep y’all in the middle
I got the butter handle—y’all always double dribble
Y’all been suckers way back since your mother’s nipple
I double-dare you to step if trouble hit you
Y’all got it backwards like pussy, so wise up
People look too hard and get their eyes stuck
I swing my dick in the air ‘cause I’m that fly fuck
Live, about to erupt, better slide up!
We keep it hard—y’all have step or stay or Dante
Y’all better get the fuck up like Pharaohe Monch say
And put your hands where my eyes can see
I’m MJ on the mic, so come fly with me
It’s Mr. Meta, do the math. 7 minus 3
That cat breakin’ out the church with the bride-to-be
One week later, she cooking me broccoli
Two weeks later, her cousin’s on top of me
Three weeks later, I’m up in her family
With the keys to the crib and the Cam-ery
I plan to see the world in the outer limits
Without no gimmicks, it’s Met now. Out my business!