Witchcraft II - Intellectual

Rodan - “Witchcraft II”

[Emcee(s): Rodan]

Homicide, don’t even come outside, got these ass-backwards asthmatics waiting to exhale

Shots ringing through your ear, ricochet off the fiber optic, hip hop drop in Nextel

Shaking up forty-one faggot-ass cops in the next jail, advertised

In small print, magnified and spotted in the text mail in red. Fugazi records

Won, and the sword of Trojan fairies are babbling, grand prize a round trip up

To Camelot Hills, grazing with the rest of the sheep, chilling on the prayers with the cattle, and

By the time the thumb hit the fan, these scary-ass Beetles started tattling. These crackers ain’t

Related to George Harrison, so we keep them Yellow-back Submarine canaries straggling

Made the victim of deception’s death admit she was a hoe, but said she was a good hoe

Like Mary Magdalene, said she live on the other side of the lake, where they burn politicians

At the stake and have public executions of polices, where they live in freedom

To teach forbidden arts of wild witches from Eastwick and Haitian voodoo high priestesses

Autopsy report, do a tap dance on your corpse like accountants crunching numbers

On the corners, stay craving the potion, saying: don’t do it for the crime, do it

For the peace of mind, don’t become a slave to your emotions. Rock with Sade

Making a smooth operation like all-day shaving lotion, brave in devotion

When you hear the ebbs of my flow, motherfucker, every time you row, it’s just another ninety-three

Million waves in the ocean

Bless new recruits, Timb boots, witchcraft, curse you

With eyes of rust, tongues of newt, politick with warlocks, the ones that shoot. We got

Federal reserves to loot. Most of their points is moot, we don’t give a flying fuck

Or outlaw hoot. If it’s your birthday, still get hurt in the worst way

Ancient faces across the ages

Like a combination of Miles and Larry Davis, taking aim at your screen name in a more

Honorable and civilized time, head of the Jedi Council, master of Windu, sworn protectors

Of the green flame, a thousand years of prosperity, toast it, promote accelerated growth

Life of love when the time on Monsta Island in the heat of summer, but hope and pray that we

Live to see plenty more of both. Well, ain’t it tragic when this faggot, fake-ass, wannabe

Joke media maggot’s logic loses to this brand-new, imperial Monsta magic?

Just food for thought next time you’re considering entering the contest before I piss on

Your face to mark the territories of the conquest. Become the witness of the ultimate challenge

Of cerebral and physical fitness. You small-hearted, Bill O’Reilly roaches beneath my notice

Giving weak cardiacs testing like litmus

Bless new recruits, Timb boots, witchcraft, curse you

With eyes of rust, tongues of newt, politick with warlocks, the ones that shoot. We got

Federal reserves to loot. Most of their points is moot, we don’t give a flying fuck

Or outlaw hoot. If it’s your birthday, still get hurt in the worst way