Jackson Pollock

[Intro]
The gig is in the center of downtown Austin, in a not very soundproof tent. Unfortunately for us, the not very soundproof Canadian tent is right next door and we've been scheduled to perform at exactly the same time as Canadian musicians, the Swollen Members

[Verse 1: Madchild]
Yo, my name is Madchild, I pack a fuckin' wallop
I'm makin' songs, doing shows enough to pack my wallet
Makin' stacks, makin' racks, I'm a rap-a-holic
Speadin' color all around like I was Jackson Pollock
I'm from Swollen Members kid, every track is solid
Line us up against your shit, you'll get your track demolished
Cause rappers hear my shit, they need some aspirin
You know they hear my shit, it make em look like they're a has-been
That's the concepts I'm havin' problems graspin'
Colder than Alaska, from Jasper to Aspen
Old as fuck and my voice is kind of raspy
In this shit for life, you don't have to bother asking
I'm kinda crazy, that's the key to my devotion
Makin' songs, reflectin' while I deal with my emotions
I'm like an onion, you gon' have to peel the layers
A silverback gorilla swingin' on the chandeliers
Never sounded iller, I've been killin' it for years
Dealin' with my fears
Head, feelin' like it's clear
I'm venomous with these words
A minimalist that hordes
My den is a twisted world
My pen is a mystic sword

[Interlude]
We're live sucka
Rappers are in danger
I get a rush when I bust
Hardcore rap music that make your ears ring

[Verse 2: Prevail]
Pressure barrel
Metric electric
I'll overload the spectrum
Locomotive freight train
I'm trained to look in both directions
Hazard signs
Flashing red lights
Blazing air horns
Rare forms, intelligent life buried in rose thorns
Cold storms forming on this westerly coast
We destiny's most
Your head's on a post
The specter of ghosts
Floatin' apparition, my position you loathe
There's more fear than Las Vegas when the vagabonds rose
Roundin' Russian roulette with all the henchmen you sent
I ran out of room in the tomb, some are stuffed in the vent
And now it's colder and lower as the temperature plummets
You're frostbitten and the famine's got you holdin' your stomach
No need to numb when I chill it
Will it be red when I spill it?
Probably, honestly
And maybe a little more than acidic
It's like the Chronicles of Riddick when it goes pitch black
I'm BAX WAR till the day I die and won't switch back, come on