[Verse 1: Doseone]

Maybe by bagful of jackals

Necking a hug of rope

By sober trained cobra

Stoned with artisinal soap

Down here anything floats

Say the truth to the guts where memory chains them

You prove what you must, projecting balance on mayhem

And keeping it up all the toil and toothbrushing of dust

Off of giving a fuck it must take

Yet choice is confined to life

A mistake your corpse won’t make

I've got 99 problems

But my corpse got none

Let me stop your cadaver

Completely free of clock

Death the only place

Capitalism is not

Look at you!

One palm tree free

Wild isle in a sea of rot

The tide taking grain by grain

Drop by drop

You forgot how far from the food chain you did drop

I got 99 problems but (inhales) let me stop

Unhand the candle

Let the wolves of wind get it

Who warned me of darkness

My inner sun setted long time ago

Shout out to all stock-to-the-live

With that certain-doom all-food-gotta-die

Conveyer-belt-to-consume

Bona-fide utterly fireless look to they eye

I'm guaranteed each day of perfecting my delicate mess

And fulfilled by the fact that I am killing my death

Yet reassured that hell ain't filled yet

I play every single morning roulette

Dark Cloud

It's connected to the head

It's connected to the bones

It's connected to the chest

He throw whole body on a guess this is not a test

I repeat, this is not a corpse

It pitched no torch, it dripped, it scorched

This while it fought

[?] just that I don't care what you feel

As long as you feel something

Cadalack Ron Paul King!

Rest powerful Valhalla heart, meet your mark, perfect shot, time

Let's go!

[Bridge]

No no no, no no

It's all good, it's all good

You're all good Ron, don't change, you're good

OK, like, I don't know what to believe any more

Except, I don't believe anybody

I don't trust anybody

[Verse 2: Mestizo]

Now this is

Blood for blood shed

Double when the thug's dead

You come around here suspect, best believe I'm serving justice

Got consequence to come

Offensive dominance under the gun, yeah

You indebted the young, shit

No backpedaling for once, yeah

Now what's that, you say?

You haven't made good on your debt you've got cash to pay

Well heavens that's a bad habit for a man to procrastinate

We happen to dance with daddy you can catch a fade

If we can all unmask in this masquerade

Well hang 'em over telephone wires with a pair of Cortez

Surely distorted vision won't corraborate the correlates [?]

Rest in power!