Low flyin’ angels dedicate a séance to the lyrically disabled
The misery of company is dead, check the halo
Inspect decks and label
Press the intense fresh as somethin’ you can take home
Do the finger dance, skippin’ tracks, scratch that
Button tappin’ in the lab, supersizin’ rhymes
Signin’ lives on the dotted line, wake up
You messin’ with fake fucks, the new Dr. Strangelove
Bubble automatic, thought process constant
Caught droppin’ large, redirect and maraud
Façade of the century is that you have riches
Guess you gotta what you do just to fit in
Slash rap critics, slingin’ my recipe in broken down kitchens
Ingredients be leavin’ in a screwface condition
Embedded in the mind
A primo piece you can feed on, mine
Wise accompanied by the quiet sword swinga
Been through engineers, it took years just to link up
Creative juices flowin’, blowin’ out the speaker
Toe tag a match when a rap tries to synch up
Watch ya face pink up, explode when a motion taps ya jaw, that’s how we touch
Mind goes a mile a minute, try to keep up
Think you’ve had enough?
Never doubt the sound, the bounce is what we love
Hugs to the ones with none, dependin’ on a raw material crutch
The dunce with an F-Plus
Shout out to DJ’s providin’ the deep cuts
The white label turntables straight clean up
The foul smell of lyrics spat out the mouth
Take a chance, place your bet, we sanatizin’ your mess

Catacomb culture reaped by the beast
A million MC’s with the same personality
Hard to breathe, hard to see
A million MC’s with the same personality

Catacomb culture is reaped by the beast
A million MC’s with the same personality
Hard to breathe, hard to see
A million MC’s tryna steal the underground’s peak