Jedi Son of Spock, Mr. Eon, Avatar the Articulate, and Percee P Freestyle (Scenes of the Underworld)

Eddie Ill & D.L. ft. Jedi Son of Spock, Mr. Eon, Avatar the Articulate, and Percee P - “Jedi Son of Spock, Mr. Eon, Avatar the Articulate, and Percee P Freestyle (Scenes of the Underworld)”
[Emcee(s): Jedi Son of Spock, Mr. Eon, Avatar the Articulate (AKA Avie Fresh), and Percee P]
[Producer(s): DJ Mighty Mi]

[Intro: Jedi Son of Spock]
Word. Yo, Eddie Ill. D.L., yo (Mighty Mi). What? Jedi, yo. Avatar, yo. Percee P, yo (Mr. Eon). What? Yo. Check it

[Verse 1: Jedi Son of Spock]
When Jedi
Spits rhymes, his enzymes get chemically tested
I’ve just been medically arrested for holding
The oxygen of hostages and feeding them carbon diox-
-ide—pardon the carbon monoxide
I’m carving some hot rhymes in your face with a hot knife while I’m
Slowly harassing y’all and get away with the
Crime like the set of an ambassador. After all
I’m clapping y’all with classic material that is
On-and-off-the-wall, and if I’m forced to call
More of my men, then it’s more of your men that is forced to fall
On and off the map, then back on beat ‘cause I
Never escaped, so whatever you rep or reflect, I’ll deflect
Reset to put you on reset. The House of Repz
Speaks nothing but the truth. I’m gonna rhyme until
Smoke leaks out the booth and blows out the roof and your
Ears bleed and identity is unknown to me
And the rest of the family—fuck it, the rest of the galaxy
More graphic than any gallery—that’s why niggas be
Feeling my shit like pottery and every record company
Now wants a part of me. As for emcees, they get
The fifth degree, so they plead the Fifth and their body
Shifts degrees—those who were standing now fall
Off of the face of this Earth, then they get replace... ments
So I was placed on this Earth to bring it to your face like a priest
With a Eucharist. I’ll guarantee you’ll feel my presence
Like Christ on the crucifix. What?

[Interlude 1: Mr. Eon]
Yo, yo. Mr. E. Home-field advantage, home-field advantage throughout the playoffs. Home-field advantage. We do it like High-and-Mighty style, yo

[Verse 2: Mr. Eon]
My soul’s in the clutches of the sin that I spin
E-W-E. Your epic is septic
Skeptics exit. This next shit is hectic
Hold down Lex with my erect eclectics
The new mutants. Your shit ain’t worth two cents
Present false pretense while I’m tree-dense
Cannot keep kosher—bacon inhaler
Eon sacrilegious, inhaling swine dishes
I clench the stench. You call it hellish
Have the Dutches, roll it up to fulfill my blunt fetish
God pass me over—last blood resident
Constant torment inventing elements
Horrific when lifted, terrific when spliffted
Your ‘burb’s to the curb. My proverb’s superb
I’ll rock from top tens, decades, to air MACs
These weapons are worthy, stay laced on the track

[Verse 3: Avatar the Articulate (AKA Avie Fresh)]
Yo, what’s
The price for articulous, meticulous melodies?
Persistent penalties, lickers, and felonies steadily
Decreases the wild beast—we’re tamed by the music
Get a bomb and diffuse it. Mics I bruises, switch like Rubik’s
With fluid swiftness. How could you fool that you could rip this?
I’m cooler than eucalyptus, mental riches is my gift, and in
This world, I’ma revolve, evolve to something greater
Later for gators and caviar. In light of Avatar
The star to shine constellation style, constantly making piles
Infiltrate your mind. It’s the high life blinding all
Your eyesight to slice like a knife fight, hyping up
The mic right, dig it? I get specific when I kick it
I’ll fall like spigots, I’m wicked and shipless, I’ll fiend to rip this
In your ear. I’m gifted, I’ll leave the engineer in stitches
Envision prisms and magnify cataclysms to shatter guys
Without a alibi. Verbal towns fly, passing by
To penetrate producers, mighty juicers, thug abusers
Mugging losers with Rugers, I’m your interlude intruder

[Interlude 2: Percee P]
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Check it out. The Rhyme Inspector Percee P representing hardcore’s finest. Check it out. Uh, uh

[Verse 4: Percee P]
What I
State’s dope—take notes and create quotes. That Ricki
Lake loc, I’ll make jokes at you fake folks
Your hurt up or get smashed quick, fast if your shit’s trash
You better skip past me ‘cause I kick ass. Word up, ha
My fans a nation. Why? My grammar’s based in
More shit than sanitation—every man is facing contamination
Got my band trailing, your hands sailing
Fans kill, then jam real, and flakers Van Halen
It’s the man who rip cliques and clans. When shit hits
The fan, you won’t get to land shit with the hands
I can get Madonna. Money, your threats are minor. In bed, you’ll find a
Bitch with a wet vagina dripping with my cassette behind her
Give me dap. I’ll decapitate and break your knee caps
When P rap, dope rhyme fiends go into relapse
I know your ass heard of Percee P. Your whole
Crew versus me? Kid, that’ll be first degree mass murder
It’s like this and like that, y’all. Black
We’re back to smack these wack new jacks who rap, y’all

[Outro: Percee P]
Boom! You’re doomed. Yeah (Eddie Ill). Underground hardness (D.L.). Word up (Hard like that)