[Intro]

They will pay

All of mankind shall pay for this

[Verse 1: M. Sayyid]

Curt Strifer, the loon goon with the tunes in his tomb

Hotter than June

Since out a twisted crib into the fumes, kids trip on his broom

Press twills for schills, shag with the half moon

Cab to school, straight to the bathroom

To take a piss then help the teacher with the creatures that inflated from the ethers

And it's waitin' in the beakers to bite on teen features

The preachers come with sermons and parents pack bleachers

Yo, it's done Mr. Kim, I shrunk 'em down to ticks

Just hit me at noon with $60 and two knicks

I gotta split, yo Va, ah Ill kicks

What's the shit, black? Yo, how you nukin'?

[Verse 2: Viktor Vaughn]

Reactin' with the core breach spewin', ya darn tootin'

Right after this rec you might expect lootin'

Nasty drop the rhyme like lime then tequilla

Flippin' like Optimus Prime to a ten-wheeler

V set the scheme on his own team like Starscream

Then go hit the bar scene all like 'na mean?'

Go to school every day, except for when he play hookey

That's the days he play bookey

If I don't study I'm a cheat off Peter Parker

Keep a liter of vodka inside my locker

Use it like a book on the Grey Goose scenario

Play you like a stereo hey you, where he go?

I'm 'bout to blow one of y'all monkeys out the frame

Whoever gypped my locker and took my Donkey Kong Game

Watch, don't even try to put it back so I can find it later

Word to Koch, it's Vaughn against the ninth graders

[Verse 3: M. Sayyid]

Haters, you fuckin' with cats who's heads are sharp as alligators

Pull out the ox cutter, nigga did I mutter or stutter what I uttered

Then check in your little cash flow or give my nigga back his Hasbro

Or catch a stab slow and that's woah

Shorty with the big talk, you gotta go

Swing on the drip to leave scars

Blood spattered on his fat laced Abdul Jabbars

Now we're gettin' chased through school with jars

Principal jumped up with his dick in the mouth of Ms. Mars

Picked up the tele, sweatin' for some squad cars

Cats tried to cut us off by the garage

But V pulled out the nicky

Yelled, "Life's chance is slim" like Lionel Richie

[Verse 4: Viktor Vaughn]

There's no finer sound then when you let off a nine round

Before the slug find the ground, V be in Chinatown

Uh, give me a slew of M-80s

A carton of those hick chasers, and two of them ladies

It's like the hood black market

Where you get goods from gats to pudding pack chocolate

To your health, we rock Chinese slippers

Me and King Gilizwe and two Guyanese strippers

On the radio, "Mack the Knife"

I watched him freeze roaches and bring 'em straight back to life

He used a different approach than I ever read

The only thing he ever said was, "The roach is never dead."

We studied transfigurations

And different ways to break the trance off the nigga nations

It's even bigger with the Haitians

No time for litigations

[Verse 5: M. Sayyid + Viktor Vaughn]

And that was science for the head, so we did the knowledge and sped

To the shed, mixin' dog bone with egg

It says, "Add body hair", [?], the heart of a hen

A fig, lay it under the bed

Will turn back time" and that's just what we did

Next day walked in the school from the crib

Laughin', yo, limpin' like a cane

And as I pass V, "Yo C—you see I got my game, right?"