(Jehst)
This saga will be spoken in three parts
Startin' from the moment this tree sparks
Opponents get broken like weak hearts
Step into my theme park
The beast can't fuck with my karma
Any drama's confined to these speech marks
Margins and paragraphs
Bastard tried to sabotage
But can't see past the camouflage
Pay-phone chameleon
My tone disappears into thin air
My skin relfects light like I'm not there
I cotch where the skyline's ashtray gray
But shine amber
And always stay cloaked below the wide angle spy camera
Mind tangle by the tight ganja
My words rep the downtrodden like a strike banner
Analog data
Know me as the codebreaker
Smoked out playing poker with the lone ranger
Puttin' LSD in your salt shaker
And if it's in bad taste
Well fuck it
That's my own flavour
The stone-age beat maker
I'm huntin' for drums
Runnin' my toungue
Along the gum on this free paper
Another young-freak of nature
Dirty faced crate-raider
Buy now pay later for my open mic night capers
Alternatively taste the fire
Of these fibre-tipped lightsabers
Any time wasters taken by the tie-breaker
You're better off skydivin' off a skyscraper

(Ricochet)
Props to Edmonton
I'm bringin' the light like Thomas Edison
Swingin' like pocket-watches and pendulums
Big-up the felon-them and fuck coppers
I'm half-a-millenium ahead of them fools like Buck Rogers
So wicked
Like my villainous mum
Attila the Hun
Would've paid anyone a million
For killin' her son
I bring oblivion
With street adlib
I'm tearin' through a braire and a crew like cheap fabric
It's like a trilogy
We link often
Devisin' ways of takin' out these emcees
Before they blink - pop 'em
My blank papers
I put ink on 'em
Then I'll be spittin' writtens so sick
Shit my shrink's got 'em
Certain pricks will be hurtin' if Ric's lurking
I'm a sick person
Stick-up kid like Dick Turpin
And I'm controllin' your soul like I was opium
And vocally
Blowin' up shows spittin' petroleum
Sparkin' half a gram
Dark and I'm rather prang
My crew travels in four-packs
Tighter than lager cans
'Cos I'm the fattest ever marga-man
I've got the darkest fans
Who start arms in the parks after jams
Now I'm part of the fam' my plan's simple
Spit a murderous verse and rip like Van Winkle
Pass me the resin
And I'll flip the script so far up it's own arse
I'll leave the startin' part as the ending

(Tommy Evans)
Beneath the underdog
Fightin' the fatcats
Cloaked by London fog
Writin' in fat caps
I'm soused in my toilet cubicle thoughts
The conductor
Constructs a musical score
My beautiful courts are suitable for
All sorts
I stand tall
Does that mean I won't fall short?
I think not
That's the reason why I drink lots
My shrink shot
I see demons in the Ink blots
As the sphinx plots my purpose
I stay civil
Trying to decipher the meaning of a riddles
The mixed signals
A bit fickle
Femme fatale
Smash egos as they're a bit brittle
A ginnels by twilight
I adjust my eyesight
My life's finite
Rewind and watch the highlights
A man born with implanted memories
Fell void
Can't test
'Cos I lack empathy
Chased relentlessly
By a force from hell
Caressed by a touch of evil like Orson Welles
Film Noir third man and dwell in the cursed land
This is my truth
I'm tellin' it first hand

(The trilogy will be heard)