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Tekst :

[Verse 1]
Assaulting emcee s with my lyrical artillery
You sicken me the epitome of lyrical wizardry
Ability for spitten these rhymes without no sympathy
Verbally assaulting emcee s they should imprison me
Given me, electrocution cookin me like ?quickasee?
The should call you emcee social studies cuz you history
Mystery why punk ass kids wanna mess wit me
Infecting me with deafening music it is upsetting me
(I got) punch lines like people at the prom waitin for juice
You got whack rhymes use the mic cord as a noose
I m sorta confused, cuz I thought I saw on the news
That there s an epidemic spreading and they caught it from you
It s whack rapper disease and it affects punk emcees
You beating me is like black folks on ski s
You ll never see it kid, not even in your dreams
I need skills like Carson Daily needs screamin teens

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
Step up if you wanna get hurt
Comin wit the grime and the grit and the dirt
Step up if you wanna get hurt
Emcee Assault

[Verse 2]
I talk trash so cats wanna battle me now
Well ain t cute no more, just like Little Bow Wow
A fowl mouth, assaulting emcee s stompin em out
Talkin more garbage than Oscar the grouch
I m knockin em out, like fish you be floppin around
Paramedics are jetting you to the hospital now
Choppin em down, like a lumberjack wit an ax
All that s left is puddles of blood with kangols and backpacks
Whipen em out, like some boogies on a snot rag
Thugs be boys, nerd emcee s and even art fags
Not sad, I m happy like Gilmore
I m ill raw, funky, fresh, deaf and still more
I m real poor, only chips I m stackin is my Pringles
Punch bachelors so I can say I have hit singles
I mix-mingle, try to lead fellow musicians
But I m driven by the competition then I start to dissin
I m trippin , like jack trippa I m surrounded by broads
You think you get raw? (Come and knock on my door)
I m not on a tour, if you wanna see me perform
Ya gotta come to my crib sit wit my kid on the floor

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
I m dirty like an aids infested hypodermic needle
Gritty like the sand in the speedo of a fag gweedo
Grimy like a slimy reptiley creature
Even if I lost my speech, I would still beat cha
Stumbling, and mumbling make ya words clearer
Ya strugglin worse than Big Pun s Pallbearers
My rhymes are more grimy than ya grandma s ass
In the heat for three weeks without havin a bath
And havin attacks, of uncontrollable gas
Wit a mess in her Depends and grandpas nut blast
Step to me, I got them rhymes straight out the gutter
It s embaracin like goin to the mall wit cha mother
And ya handicapped father and ya retarded brotha
Why bother battlin me go find anotha
Rhymes to steal tagged on the wall of a men s room stall
You a victim of Emcee Assault!

[Chorus]

Tekst :

Brand New For 2003
That Murderous Shit

[Chorus]
Murda Murda Murda, Kill Kill Kill
I m Q-Strange, they say I m quite ill

[Verse 1]
I m a basket case, I m sure your path is demented
All this anger inside needs to be vented
Hey, yo don t be offended, when I slashin ya face
Im doin you a favor punk you off to a better place
A nutcase wit a taste for torture
A bloody butcher knife is in my hand ready to slaughter
I oughta get treatment for my sick mind
I saw my therapist Dr. Doom and he said I m fine
But I m about to watch you suffer kid
Strap you in a chair and put toothpicks in ya eyelids
Prying them open till you can t sleep for weeks
In ya own fecal matter, is all you can eat
And then for a treat, I might slice ya neck
Or maybe stab ya chest you ll be beggin for death yes
When I write lyrics I don t need a pen or a pad
I just grab a knife and start to stab
And on my wall in drippin blood I write my rhymes
I got eyeballs hangin on my porch like wind chimes
And if you think that s sick, just open my fridge
I got two heads, a torso, and a couple limbs
In my trash bin I fill to the rims
With bloody guts, what the fuck, life is pretty grim
Severed heads scattered all over my lawn like a cabbage patch
I grab a ax, I kick ya nuts like a hackey sack
And that s a fact, I got the innovation that you lack
A wacky jack in a crappy act, singin happy raps
But if it s sinister then that s a different story
Fuck keep it real man, I d rather keep it real gory

[Chorus] - 4X

[Verse 2]
Don t try to understand the sick talk
I m runnin down the street with dead babies on a pitchfork
A bitch talk I don t hesitate to stab her
Then I ll grab her, put her in the trunk of an Impala
Then I take her out, I drag her in the house
The funs about to begin I take my tools out
Now, I put the knife inside her gently drag it down her tummy
Surprise surprise this ones an expecting mommy
I remove the fetus and I put it in a jar
Pull out some vital organ like the spleen and a heart
I rap it up and put it in a bag so I can take
It to work tomorrow eat it on my lunch break
This is great and the fun is just startin
I rap intestines, all around my apartment like garland
Look down at the hollow corpse a pretty sight
Kiss her on the cheek now its time to say goodnight
Now who s that sleepin in my bed
It s a dead body wit no head
Skin is turning gray, starting to decay
Smellin really bad, but I like it that way
Get under the covers, hug her cuz I love her
First thing in the morning I guess I ll dispose of her
Click on the TV before I go to sleep
The news says two kids have been missing for weeks
If they only knew one was dead floating down the creek
And the other one is in my torture chamber as we speak
I m unique and I m sick abstract in the thoughts in my head
I m crazy I wanna see you dead, wanna

[Chorus]

Tekst :

[Verse 1]
Back in 88 the little neighborhood terror
Started writin rhymes back in hip hops golden era
Middle school hallways was bustin a flow
I used to go by the name of emcee Snow
The music was a way to escape my pain
In the box was Rah Kim or maybe Big Daddy Kane
As the years progressed I kept ownin my craft
Bus stop kids would laugh white kids cant rap
My voice soundin funny I was end the midst of puberty
And this whole hip hoppin rap shit was new to me
1990 made a demo age of 15
It was my dream to just bust on the scene
Flat top fade, with the lines and designs
Rockin hammer pants was the style at the time
Kickin my rhymes to anybody that would listen
My moms had my back and gave supportive criticism
1992 I started rollin wit a crew
My name was Mist Jinx and my partner Doc Seuss
1993 bumpin Tribe Called Quest
Playin hooky downtown fuck a history test
I had the cross colors gear with the hair up in dreads
And my friends, knuckleheads we was all good kids
Rappin over instrumental records on a cassette
We ain t had no equipment if we did we d be set
94 was the year moms passed on
Bouncin place to place just tryin to find a home
I Hooked up with JayD and Mo Duce and Nine 5
3rd floor productions man we dropped comin live

[Chorus]
No matter what as the years went on
I couldn t stop just writing these songs
When nothin went right and everything went wrong
Used the music to just keep on
Never gonna stop no I must succeed
Never gonna happen if I don t believe
I got goals that I gotta achieve
And until I do I ll never lose that dream

[Verse 2]
3rd Floor Productions and the group iLLriginals
Makin phat tracks every week was the ritual
Doin shows while we could good while it lasted
But 1997 though I guess we just had it
All lost touch and Mo just passed too
JayD is still reppen with the Birthright Crew
And around this time I felt I needed a change
I need to somethin different wit a whole new name
It was extreme I admit, it was a bit different
Q Strange, murderous rap wit the sick shit
Did murder kill people couldn t believe
That that kid Mista Jinx just changed his whole steez
Did a couple of tracks and put it out on dubs
And the heavy metal freak show these kids ll love
In 98 I hooked up wit this kid name Hex
The crew L.U. Cipha was the group that he repped
He heard my tape man he was diggin the shit
Told his kid Slowkill and his girl named Jill
The next thing I know they got that shit online
They had a web page, thought I d hit the big time
Anyways 99 I put out Decayed Thoughts
Low budget style though shit I was poor
In the year 2g I dropped C to E
Now mad kids are bumpin me coppin my CD
Get mail, cats overseas gimme props
Blow my mind every time, party never stops
Still just strivin , strugglin , in the game
Hopin I can get some shit out and make a name
For myself, only way I ll ever get the wealth
Cruz this is all I do I thank yall for my help
Now it s 2003 mad shit done changed
I been married, separated, got a son that ????
But no matter what this music shit is still with me
And if rap is still round I ll be flowin when I m fifty
Underground, mainstream, wanna be on the scene
But for now I can close my eyes and just dream

[Chorus] - 4X

Comrades, the voices of the dead battalions,
Of those who fell, that Europe might be great
Join in our song, for they still march in spirit with us
And urge us on that we gain the national state

(Chorus)
The streets are still, the final battle has ended
Flushed with...

[Verse 1]
Assaulting emcee s with my lyrical artillery
You sicken me the epitome of lyrical wizardry
Ability for spitten these rhymes without no sympathy
Verbally assaulting emcee s they should imprison me
Given me, electrocution cookin me like ?quickasee?
The should...

As surely as the countdown begins our time is not our own
already there s the breath of the wind which bleaches bare the bones
of the deadlines we set, of the jokes we don t get
and forgetfulness that furrows the brow...
no I ll never find a better...

Drugs, Rock and Roll
Bad Ass, Vegas Hoes
Late Nights, Booty Calls
Shiny Disco Balls (x8)

Drugs (echo)
Rock and Roll (echo)
Bad Ass (echo)
Vegas Hoes (echo)
Shiny Disco Balls (echo)

Drugs, Rock and Roll
Bad Ass, Vegas Hoes
Late Nights, Booty Calls
Shiny Disco Disco Disco Disco Disco Disco Disco Disco Disco Disco
Shiny Disco Balls

Disco (x19)

Drugs, Rock and Roll
Bad Ass,...

Oh no no no no no

Lately something s come over me
I once was blind, oh but now i see
A power flowing through my soul
Giving me control
Making me feel whole

[Chorus]

Lead me, all through the...