Hand of Fire

Intro:

- This is the secret storm brought to you by Bowtee Beefstew!
- The guidin' light...
- And now, the doctors...
- Thank you very much, thank you, thank you!
- This moment is one of, personal pride and gratification, if one cannot help but reflect, the deep sadness that we feel, over the troubles and the violence, which have erupted, regrettably and tragically in the streets of this great city

Verse 1:

I broke down the beat, broke down some tree
Blow out a weed cloud, jump on it and float down the street
Cartoon shit, visuals born standin' up
Iron hot sword brandin' tongue, Hellboy horn
FDR tour branded run, I'll warn fans (Ayo)
Don't gеt fooled by fake Jak poor scammin' punks
Pasta sauce, mama raisеd a Hell D-boy
In the pen and it's fuck, LP voice (Yeah)
References campy and weird
Dabbin' candy that's clear
Might drive off the weed like, Randy Lanier
My friends will hate this (Woah)
I'm ventin' hatred
Both eyelids feel like lead and waited
Vacuum zips of exotics hatched, celebrated (Yo!)
We breakin' mad seals open, that's revelations

Interlude:

- I see you found the (?) in this, it has been a constant contender, quite obviously sociopathic, and you see, he has an insipient sign of schizophrenia, as well, there's no doubt in my mind, it fits your profile, Sarah
- Did you see that? See how he (?), there's somethin' funny about that guy, I sensed it, I sensed it right this time

Verse 2:

Yeah, yo, yo, sharpin' a bar 'til it look like a spear
- Jak, you're in your own hand!
I know but you gotta see what it look like in here (Wow)
Hook like a shear, nobody in the nook write this weird
The after effects leave you shook like a year
Used to be the proto-ill type, pro-pill life
Sittin' on pill boxes, Hamburger Hill high
Lettin' the skill fry
Now the powerlines will box 'em off top, Detective Mill's wife (Wait, hold on, bro)