Let loose on 'em, yea, let loose on 'em
Hit the Deck. Crooked I and King Tech

(Crooked I)
I spit impossible rhymes, full of philosophical lines
My phenomenal shine, is leaving everyone of your opticals blind
Run you over when it's Apocalypse time
Half n***a, half diesel like Optimus Prime
Cockin' this nine to pop ya
Permanent disfigurement
Have you rocking half a mask like the Phantom of the Opera
Mach 3 is how fast I drop ya
Walk fast, that bothers the speed they clock to
Hatchet, as it, deliberately chopped ya
You thought you had a win here
Like watching porno flicks with six chicks
I'm the hardest n***a in here
Straps under you here, we blast like every night's New Year
Cerebral hemispheres get blew here
No need to cuss and fuss, just
Hop out of the bushes scratched up from the brush and bust
I make the angriest atheist praise me, if not
He's feeling the simultaneous pain of a shot
And the shank in his pancreas, maybe it's my instantenous plots
The craziest n***a couldn't face me if an alien gave him his thoughts
Us kamikazees regulate
I strap a bomb under my trench coach
And hug you 'till it detonates
I was brainwashed by N.W.A and B.D.P
I'm the year 2000 version of The D.O.C
When Crooked I spot these fake cliques
They better be able to dodge bullets like the Matrix or take six
I'm so ominenous, and dominant, any improminent hip-hop conglomerate
On this continent I'm BOMBING IT!