1984: Intergalactic

[Intro talking: L.A. VanGogh]

Swank

Swag

Get out my bathroom

Bitch

1985, right?

Remember that shit

[Verse 1: L.A. VanGogh]

They said VanGogh, VanGogh spit me a verse

For that to happen you would need a black suit and a hearse

Homicide on an Obama ride, a politic scene

I made a bitch give me her brains so she could swallow my dreams

Doom, 18 years out of the womb

And I'm spitting like a motherfuckin' mummy in a tomb

Yeah, the raps is so def (death)

The flow so cold it gets skated by Wayne Gretz'

I'm fuckin' up ya tracks, man, call Latisha

War with the words, diction's my militia

Lord poetry, the painter of the picture

The lyric lad leaking lessons straight up out the scripture

I'm getting grown now, they so 10th grade

I kick it so consistent, the flow so sensei

All they talk is "broads and the chains, they been paid

They got a thing for whips" man these cats so Kente

Got a narrow path but I'm thinking the broad way

My mind's in the Madison my posse's on Broadway

Chi-town all day, but they know L.A

I got OG's that mess with me the long way

Harvey, first ward, the home of the drug lords

Ingall's hospital came out with a mic cord

Knocked at the back door, then snuck in the front

See, I'm high off life, dog, you stuck in the blunt

Oh, hi, I'm Gizzogh from the land of the little

Drug pushers with pistols shooting like Kerry Kittles

The maker of the widow, and creator of the cripple

Pull it out and I bet they all bounce like dribble

But, me I'm more simple, see the writer of the riddle

Styles bit with no kibbles so they nibble

Niggas be asking if I'm putting all these beats in a casket

Did the cow jump the moon and the cat with the fiddle?

I'm sick, I sell sickle to fickle niggas in nickel bags

Squiggle my initials to triple, the method's crystal

Whistle, dismiss the critics who disrespect my temple

And asking me if I'm dope is like asking if Jack was nimble

Illmatic addict, rapping rabid is a habit

Pack some fashion in package stash, I'm radical as fascists

'Til the rain came upon and brought lies upon the useless

Rappers got a misconceived perception of what truth is

I'm young to the youthless, dumb to the stupid

A bulletproof heart, dodging phone calls from cupid

Bars are so hard, but they far from cuddly

So, I'm on top of my bars like them broads from Coyote Ugly

Quincy McCall balling, you broads is Monica

I won't stop 'til my name is on a moniker

My nigga, my brother, see, the game's tainted lover

Who was at the Last Supper pulling wine out the cupboard

I'm so Live like '05, that I could spit dead

And of course I spew AIDS homie, I'm a sick dickhead

Been on, but they holding my coming like a Trojan

But, what happens when they find out the condom's broken

So I made these lames fade like erosion

As a token of my potent unspoken dope explosion

Send condolence to opponents cause the beast has been awoken

Tyrannosaurus-Rex-Grossman in the open

If they don't include me, Double X-L, in a moment

2012 Freshman class then it's a problem with enrollment

I'm too thought provoking, rhymes deeper than the ocean

If you scared you might drown, you'll probably still get soaked in

Dopeness, going across my lines like encroachment

I'm giving quarters back with some receivers still in motions

That means I'm giving change to anybody in the open

You're defense is hopeless

I think that it's a problem when these rappers multiply, but the money divides

And they swear they got the answers with no product or a quotient