[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