[Intro]

Police have arrested the suspect accused of setting several arson fires in the Fairfax District. 34-year-old Delano Thompson was taken into custody this week. Eyewitness News reporter Josh Haskell has learned how police tracked him down and the cha-charges he is now facing

[Verse 1: Novatore]

I ain't the sickest in the room, we must be in a hospice

Close to death, protect your neck like you a fuckin' ostrich

Mosh pits, that's what I'm causin' when I drop hits

And I ain't talkin' acid, I'm a god to rap, you not shit

You might have caught Corona but you not sick

And you might be a bеast when you alone but you are not this

I'm in thе cockpit, we droppin' bombs like Nagasaki

Homie, you can know karate, soul is still gon' leave your body

Not famous but I do what I do

I put a decade in this game and I threw my name in and who was you?

And if I'm new to you, I pray you forgiven

But I'd wager you're in danger of a major incision (Yeah!)

At 26 I made a major decision

Got dedicated to the way I was fuckin' livin'

At 32 I had to pray I'm forgiven

I'll never turn my back on rap but hate the wage you've been given (Ugh!)

Sometimes I'm feelin' like this place is a prison

Like it's a God-given gift but this a waste of a vision

Like I'm a cook who's been misplaced in the kitchen

Basically trippin', rearrange your face and at this pace that I'm rippin' (Goddamn!)

I can write a rhyme in a minute

By design, I'm writing lines until my time is infinite

And I ain't believin' that the sky is the limit

'Cause this timeline is fine but there'll be nine when it's finished (Yeah!)

[Verse 2: Lord Goat]

Bloody tablecloths, skull drippin' like cheesy bread

No reasoning, my deli stinkin' like seasoning

Cadaver stench like rotten pesto, seafood that's lingering

Return to Charlie M, young Tex like Beatles singin' it

Like raise the altar, coffin syrup the final offer

Engage the body bag before they burn it then it hits the water

My mind's playin' tricks on me, shells in your aorta

In the deli on the scale, wax paper, it takes the orders

Body parts in plastic Boar's Head cases, dirty faces

And deli gloves from the staircases, hair raises

Blast haters, grass tasters, gas and hash blazers

Seen Tuddy out in Vegas burnin' buds, that's what made me famous

Blew his face all over the dash, you can smell the fragrance

Inverted reverend but the carpet in the smelly basement

Murder machine, we get the work from the Asians

We pagans, Farragut Road, we dyin' for the papers