Mr. Voodoo ft. L-Swift, K.A., and A-Butta - “Hemlock”
[Emcee(s): Mr. Voodoo]
[Producer(s): Charlemagne]
[Sample (Hook/Riff): Herbie Hancock - “Oliloqui Valley” (5:00)]
[Additional Vocals/Hook: L-Swift, K.A., and A-Butta]
[Verse 1: Mr. Voodoo]
I was
Standing on the corner, just-a wasting my time when
I realized I was the king of the rhyme. I got
On the microphone to let niggas see supremacy
Is my legacy, my weaponry’s besting niggas
In telepathy. I’m more untouchable than leprosy
Come off wretchedly with lyrics filled with lechery
So don’t step to me with treachery. Rapper after rapper
I consecutively blow out their trajectory
Perspectively, I’m nice, but I hate to brag, and if
Mics were a gun, then mine’s a .45 mag
Niggas that are snitches are really bitches in drag
Swig ‘til I swag, sizzle my brain, die and go
On to another plane. Out of nowhere I came
Pack flame with the Lee Harvey Oswald-type aim
My sounds be booming, flows are consuming like I’m not human
Not normal, not mortal, but cybernetic
Lyrics embedded, ready to set it, so whoever steps here
Is getting shredded from the right to the left ear
I’m so cool, I got formaldehyde in my vein
My flow is hemlock, leaving wack emcees slain
[Hook: L-Swift, K.A., Mr. Voodoo, and A-Butta]
[L-Swift and (K.A.)]
I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Yo, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Check it, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Word up, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down)
[Mr. Voodoo and (A-Butta)]
So taste the hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
[Verse 2: Mr. Voodoo]
I’m catching
FCC fines for foul thoughts on my mind
Dangerous like a ride on the G Line, relying on lines
That make niggas feline ‘cause their flows is type benign
Mr. Voodoo kicks behind simply with fly rhymes that I’m
Using, I be bruising, causing multiple contusions, live in
Constant confusion, street fights with bloody conclusions
Don’t sell niggas illusions. A nine’s my solution
Heads I truly fry, niggas I cootchify, bag their honeys
If they’re cutie-pies, leave it alone if the cooty fries
Criminal activity holds me in captivity
With smooth rap flow, I cap a capo, I control
A crowd like F.O.I. when I’m dropping meteors
And you won’t see me on TV in bikini drawers
Or hard-rock clothes, singing like a pussy-whipped hoe. As I grow
My genesis makes peace to friends and instant nemesis
My dome explodes emcees, feed on the flow like photosynthesis, son
You know the prophet who gets biz on any topic
Shoot rap, grab my profit. Fucking with me is toxic ‘cause
[Hook: L-Swift, K.A., Mr. Voodoo, and A-Butta]
[L-Swift and (K.A.)]
I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Check it, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Word up, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Peep it, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down)
[Mr. Voodoo and (A-Butta)]
So taste the hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
[Verse 3: Mr. Voodoo]
I’m di-
-ssecting the vital organs of once-dope
Emcees who have now gone-a foreign. They used to be hardcore
When the dough started pouring, they turned into
A bunch of suited-up penguins in glittering sequin
Rap’s last beacon, what I speak weakens knees of deacons, I make
Type-O flow to streets. Who flows to beats? The Mr
V-double-O-D-O-twice, repeats Macho like Hector
Drink devils’ nectar, then play D.L. like a defector
Mental receptors is setting off metal detectors
Snake’s bane in my vein makes me a nerve-wrecker, master
A racket like Boris Becker. Lethal lecture? I pack it
Then bust the fatness that’s most emphatic. Emcees with wackness
Is getting more shots in the back than a faggot
I steal and rob before I kneel and bob for mass appeal
Still got it locked like N.A. Rock hold down the block
So know your limit, find someone else’s flow to mimic, sing
A soldier’s hymn like Folgers, fill me up to the brim
Drop a gem rock and paralyze limbs with the hemlock
[Hook: L-Swift, K.A., Mr. Voodoo, and A-Butta]
[L-Swift and (K.A.)]
I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Word up, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Peep it, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down). Word up, I got it
Hemmed up, kid. (I got it locked down)
[Mr. Voodoo and (A-Butta)]
So taste the hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
A taste of hemlock, y’all. Taste the hemlock (Right, right)
[Outro: Mr. Voodoo]
Yeah, this is Mr. Voodoo. Wanna send a shout-out to the Fortress family. Peace to my man Charlemagne. Peace to man Big TIM. Peace to my man G-Blass. Peace to L-Swift, K.A., my man Howie Smalls. Peace to man Koran. Peace to Uptown. Peace to my man Craig. Peace to Brooklyn. Peace to everyone out there that keep it real. And I’m out