M.O.B.

Verse 1:
The snake charmer, equal opportunity hate monger
I hold the weight in my straight left like A. Tarver
J chop ya fuckin' head 'cause his blade sharper
Every rhyme I fuckin' spit is a grenade launcher
I'm an insane author, a non-human
Who studied the SAGE test from John von Neumann
Somethin' happens in my brain when the guitar strums
Bitin' me would be insane cause it scars lungs
These all guns, and I can handle 'em
You mean as much to me as uncle Sam and 'em
So I choose not to abuse telepathy
Because it's dangerous like the Soviets' weaponry
Let's see who's next to me, burned at the fuckin' stake
Then I can throw the faggot urn in the fuckin' lake
Give me a fuckin' break, you know what this is
JS1, Rahzel, Paz, men of business

Chorus (Scratches)

Verse 2:
I’m Abdullah the Butcher
Pay respect or I’m pulling the cooker
You might as well kill yourself, I’m droolin' to push ya
Even if you survive, son, you still bitch
'Cause I’m waitin' anxiously to pull the kill switch
Your body still stiff, rigor mortis
I bring pain that's as raw as Kane's chorus
I seen 'caine that was pure as Rich Porter's
I seen brains that was poured on six corners
Listen to orders, Vinnie Paz remain heartless
That’s due to my fixation on the darkness
Just give me a forty, a idiot, and Billy Dee
You’ll see what the psychology of Philly really be
Yeah, from the birth place of Rocky
My left hook to the body is like Arturo Gatti
You couldn’t stop me, I fuckin' brain-drill
I stick around a while to witness how the pain feel