Twisted

[Intro: Pumpkinhead]
Aye, AP, you know what you doing, son? Hide your wallets, niggas. Skeme Team in effect. You heard? Brooklyn Ac’, DJ Venom, Block McCloud, Pumpkinhead. Yo, Metaphor, rip that shit

[Verse 1: Mr. Metaphor]
I walk the wild sidewalk. You got your head in the sand
Pull it out and reach for me with the bread in your hand
I’ll charge 5 G’s a session. I’m the medicine man
Injecting Venom in the track, son, I’m deading your clan
Whatever the plan, I’m down for [whatever the hand is?]
I’ll spit a dollar on a track and inherit a grand
I’ll flip a rapper like a dime bag—for seven a gram
And watch it when I grab this ho ‘cause I spread her like jam
Brooklon’s where I sleep. Brooklon ‘til I die
It’s where the streets keep watching, won’t respond to your cry
I’m always looking towards the east like a wandering eye
So hold your 40s in the air, spark the traum, and get high
When I smoke my last L, I’ma pull up my sleeve
Close my eyes, jump off the boat like Sandra Bullock in Speed
Tripped up, takping rope, tied up Keanu Reeves
Stuff his mouth with a blank and clogged his nose with pennies
Take a deep breath, close your eyes, son, inhale
I sink all the ships on the streets and set they sail
I swallow 50 cops with the mouth of a rail
So when they scream, “Thar she blows!” I’m breaking out of this jail

[Verse 2: Pumpkinhead]
Official Skeme Team member—name printed on my jacket
I find your demo at a label in the garbage basket
Bastard, fag bitch, come out the cabinet
[Track theatrics?]. I’ll rip a track [‘til the last ditch?]
Burn your Versace fabrics in matches and acid
Now it’s ashes. This is some sad shit
Don’t come back for Seven Years like Brad Pitt. And while you gone
I’ll put your girl on a mattress, smash it for practice
Make her slip her back disc. The fact is
I got a fat dick and it’s covered with your girl’s ChapStick
Smoke hashes, fell asleep, woke up to a sandwich
Soda and chips. The big man on campus
Mad sick like bad pussy with crab itch
AP cuts so fast, kids, the mixtape come with a bandage
What?

[Interlude: Block McCloud]
Yeah. Yeah, niggas. What? Skeme Team, kid. We coming. Yo

[Verse 3: Block McCloud]
Block McCloud, I’m designated, the desecrator
Stepped on sacred land, left a crater. The wack-from-talent segregator
The defecator drop shit on your record player
And 8-piece tape recorder. Heard my joint and laid yours over
Yo, you’ll pray to Jehovah. My rapping days are over
If I ain’t rapping, I’m making my quota with coke and baking soda
Cueing dirt, the Devil’s worst, Satan’s soldier
Getting chased by jakes over my head like Ray Liotta
Yo, I’m the same persona that had your dame bent over
Like yoga to clean up the stain on your lady’s sofa
One night stand, I’m sleeping over, feeding her la vida loca
You taste me when you eat her chocha

[Outro: [Venom?]]
Ayyo, we straight Skeming out this motherfucker. Skeme Team, Brooklyn Ac’, Block McCloud, Pumpkinhead, Mr. Met, Venom, [?], [?]. Yo, we got this on lock