[Jak Tripper]

Next of the macabre masters, a king who crafts his poems
Casting stones, my spine attached to thrones
I mettle old rings, leather straps and ropes
I use to make animal traps and carry them back to home
And skin cats to bones
Then woke up in a psych-ward slurring from trazodone
Next to bonfires I sat alone
I trip sick, when I spit shit my tongue lashes like tentacles of squids whip
Tunnel vision on cliff tips
Telekinetic's strong enough to bring down Mount Olympus
Force weather system wind shifts
Bring back virgin suicide chicks with their wrists slit
And walking dead triplets, each birthmark with sixes
As God as my witness please don't talk to me when I'm tripping
You'll sound like 1000 compact discs skipping

[Boxguts]

Boozing losing grips, who's yer chicken
Trying to twist off bottle caps with soggy hands slipping
Cuties fingertips ripped and dripping
I don't mean to sound all booshie but we was just sippin
Fuck who's he kidding?
Who me? Shit kid, I'm just a little bit twisted
I need to fronto leaf to put this lock of piff
Shots and the ganja got me feeling bossy and different
Rocked and lifted, hock the brolic fif spit
Mary Jane rot crotch, pops while the Boxer's dick's hitting
Sloppy living, soggy linens with a lot of spillage
In a chop shop with the top spinning
Sopped in venom, copper heads better stop slithering
I got y'all by the tonsils
Sock stripping, tie 'em in a big knot, drop and kick it
A living snake's skin soccer ball
Right about now sounds more than raw don and pimpish
Watch the floss, or walk the block with a bop limping