Hemlock (Demo Version)

Mr. Voodoo ft. L-Swift, K.A., and A-Butta - “Hemlock (Demo Version)”
[Emcee(s): Mr. Voodoo]
[Producer(s): Charlemagne]
[Sample (Hook/Riff): Herbie Hancock - “Oliloqui Valley” (5:00)]
[Hook/Additional Vocals: L-Swift, K.A., and A-Butta]

[Verse 1: Mr. Voodoo]
No emcee
Equals, man, I’m representing for my peoples. I hit you
Off with a dose, but it ain’t legal ‘cause these flows is lethal
Never run out—my mind’s on automatic refill. Used to
Rock Lees and Clarks, now I rock emcees in dark and penetrate
Cyphers in parks like my name was John Starks while niggas
Watch by your block, try and block what I concoct, but I
Get crazed and leave your head fucked up for days like Hawaiian Rock
Don’t try and rock after me ‘cause I jinx mics like thunder
Wring tight and hit the battle quicker than a sphinx fight
This human being fiend mics, smoke and spit it clean like
Shake when I create, son, assonate. I’m the instant cool
Cyclical, real but rhythmical that split your bull and make the average
Rapper mythical—that’s biblical fact. Put down
What lack, black on track with a magnum kickback. A straight-up
Menace with the sentence, rappers get ate up, pictures I
Paint up be vivid ‘cause I feel it and I live it
Niggas be talking jive to me, thinking they’re more live than me
Nigga, read the ivory. Now slide and fucking sob to me
I’m so cool, I got formaldehyde in my vein
My flow is hemlock, leaving wack emcees slain

[Hook: L-Swift, K.A., Mr. Voodoo, and A-Butta]
[L-Swift and (K.A.)]
Yo, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Yo, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Check it, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Word up, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down)
[Mr. Voodoo and (A-Butta)]
So taste the hemlock, son. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, son. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)

[Verse 2: Mr. Voodoo]
I’m catching
FCC fines for foul thoughts on my mind
Dangerous like a ride on the G Line, relying on lines
That make niggas feline ‘cause their flows is type benign
Mr. Voodoo kicks behind simply with fly rhymes that I’m
Using, I be bruising, causing multiple contusions, live in
Constant confusion, street fights with bloody conclusions
Don’t sell niggas illusions. A nine’s my solution
Heads I truly fry, niggas I cootchify, bag their honeys
If they’re cutie-pies, leave it alone if the cooty fries
Criminal activity holds me in captivity
With smooth rap flow, I cap a capo, I control
A crowd like F.O.I. when I’m dropping meteors
And you won’t see me on TV in bikini drawers
Or hard-rock clothes, singing like a pussy-whipped hoe. As I grow
My genesis makes peace to friends and instant nemesis
My dome explodes emcees, feed on the flow like photosynthesis, son
You know the prophet who gets biz on any topic
Shoot rap, grab my profit. Fucking with me is toxic ‘cause

[Hook: L-Swift, K.A., Mr. Voodoo, and A-Butta]
[L-Swift and (K.A.)]
I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Check it, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down) while I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Word, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down)
[Mr. Voodoo and (A-Butta)]
So taste the hemlock, son. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, son. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)

[Verse 3: Mr. Voodoo]
I’m di-
-ssecting the vital organs of once-dope
Emcees who have now gone-a foreign. They used to be hardcore
When the dough started pouring, they turned into
A bunch of suited-up penguins in glittering sequin
Rap’s last beacon, what I speak weakens knees of deacons, I make
Type-O flow to streets. Who flows to beats? The Mr
V-double-O-D-O-twice, repeats Macho like Hector
Drink devils’ nectar, then play D.L. like a defector
Mental receptors is setting off metal detectors
Snake’s bane in my vein, shit’s a nerve-wrecker, master
A racket like Boris Becker. Lethal lecture? I pack it
Then bust the fatness that’s most emphatic. Emcees with wackness
Is getting more shots in the back than a faggot
I steal and rob before I kneel and bob for mass appeal
Still got it locked like N.A. Rock hold down the block
So know your limit, find someone else’s flow to mimic, sing
A soldier’s hymn like Folgers, fill me up to the brim
Drop a gem rock and paralyze limbs with the hemlock

[Hook: L-Swift, K.A., Mr. Voodoo, and A-Butta]
[L-Swift and (K.A.)]
I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Yo, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Word up, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Check it, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down)
[Mr. Voodoo and (A-Butta)]
So taste the hemlock, son. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, son. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, son. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)