The 3 Wise Men

I never liked Imus Always thought he was a dickhead The media want to try to Censor my lyrics instead I'd be a fucking idiot if my Lyrics didn't reflect the pain Caused by a world-wide business of death Blowjob from your mother and wife At the same time Sit back, recline with my cocaine rhymes Heroin beats Like Extra P, let the rhythm hit 'em Terrible heat Relentlessly, effortlessly hit them Street villainess we the chosen of man Now get in the van I get it cookin' like meth in a pan Tie your arm up with a belt And inject in a scab Round trip to the drug spot set in a cab Rolling Stone concert flicks Thousand dollar chips Model chicks with a ton of Tit's and hypnotic hips Get sprayed at your table at the Babylon club Left dazed, mangled, disabled And splattered in blood Me and Bill are both martyrs Flows so similar to Harvard Books inside libraries One step beyond smarter cajun hot We throw it up like a Half-court lob into the quarter When the shot clock does 'em So sick, f*ck around, become a victim Don't blame me Young cats put themselves in this position You're facing a dilemma There's no telling when you might End up face off with a nutcase and a sinner Embrace this and parish Face that shows terror No punches or edit's, I rival up the devil I walk past everything falls dead Verbally spreading my medula Ho store beats release unchained mechanics In the form of bar with the music Join us and permantly sleep 'cause you're onpoint Two guns, mean OC and BILL We're double-jointed The rhyme alchemist, hip hop scientist Mix bombs in a lab like an Al Quada terrorist My shit narcotic from start to finish I knock out so many teeth I Get kick backs from dentists I feed MC's to the vultures, man While their chicks' asses up in The air like Shin Chan Wanna test this? Have a good medical plan Cause I bash you in the Dome like Captain Caveman And this dope's a billion bucks a gram I wipe the blood off my mic And f*ck a female fan You never thought you'd see me, Bill And O on a track So dope The DEA thought it was crack When it comes to rockin a mic I do work So many exotic feats they Call me Captain Kirk Shit-faced like the jerk My shit's a street sweeper But your shit just squirt