(This is a glass of water, colorless, tasteless. It contains 100 gamma of LSD 25. One tenth of a milligram, the equivalent of one 600th of a grain. An ounce of this material will make 150,000 such doses.) [taken from 1950s Housewife in LSD Experiment]

I'm off chains like rusted chainsaws sprained
Get your balls skanked
I torch horse strength
Pull vessels off frames
The 4 bang
Give his roof a gutter, let his thoughts drain
On tour I almost faint huffing off paint
Til I collapse like a corpse veins
Banner or pure hate
Rifkin pick up on lost strays
Chloroform cloth, tennis shorts stained
I've been going at it all day
Windows to my soul a force frame
I force sex on the track, I have the beat cum
You're all cattle feed dung
From thugs rapping on the ave with heat
And battle scene punks
I trash sets like early Aberdeen Grunge
And call me Willy Wonka Peppermint Appleseed Tongue
Who wants to leave? I eat acid tabs to beam up
The Universe don't want no parts of Jak
I told the Earth to pass the heat son

(Well I think it's time for you to have your lysergic acid. Drink this down and we'll be back after awhile, and see how you're doing.) [more from 1950s Housewife in LSD Experiment]

The humans are fuel I'm not alike
I'm so not alright
I feel like my spirit shot the sky
Dropped out of Oxnard in an Oxford tie
My head could be colonized
My music backwall like Vogner
Me and Gore like the thing with two heads on Albert Hofmann's bike
This adrenochrome make me feel like I walk in rocket sight
I live under a rock
I come out like I was thawed from a block of ice
The coven in a church like crack hand-offs behind the pews
I use rap as an excuse to express random violence through
Peace to Johnny twenty-fucking-three
Red Typewriter Virus Crew
About to tie up crews 'cause of the hit work I was hired to

[Outro from the Supercoven version]
(Christ. Look at this traffic up here, shit. We gotta get home. Idiot, move over.)
(After any kind of drug haul, everyone in the crew indulged. I laughed to myself as I pictured blues and Dilaudid in such great amounts on the spoon that it would literally be overflowing. Upon entering my vein, the drug would start a warm itch that would surge along until the brain consumed it in a gentle explosion. It began in the back of the neck and rose rapidly until I felt such pleasure that the whole world sympathized and took on a soft, lofty appeal. Everything was grand then. Your worst enemy -- he wasn't so bad. The ants in the grass -- they were just, you know, doing their thing. Everything took on the rosy hue of unlimited success...) [taken from Drugstore Cowboy (1989)]