Handling the pandemonium for a moment
Dude I'm a shogun focused on an open case and I'll close it
Suppose sirROC had it loaded and cocked, no not his glock
I mean decoded the lock and so that it's lowered a notch
That's where we float to the top of the surface
Perfectly serving a purpose
Hemoglobin is curdling slow like a tortoise
My word is bondage like PortisHead samples, no one deserves it
But still I loop it, stupid ol' group, and my crew will seduce it and work it
Organize
Bang the organ and cry
Put it aside then when it's right we'll toss it in the Akai
Causing the critics to lie to themselves, hiding their welts
And sitting silently they sigh but I'm just trying to help
Settle scores like warriors born with torches and swords
And bring a force so enormous it'll scorch through your shorts
Open the doors matadors, it's a 4-minute war
Hard to the core, from the lands, skies, oceans and shores

Hook:
West Coast, Syntax, underground hip hop artists
We be the hardest

I hear you rapping with agony
Your face is all burgundy
What's the matter you mad at me'
Dream about serving me'
Word to Syntax academy, daddy
Baddest vocab in the galaxy or the sky or the sea
Hotter than Mexicali be
Hand it to me and I'll hand it back to the beat
And add a rap that'll have you running like Adam and Eve
Lada la dalada di, that means no battling me
You'll catch a slap to the face of your pride beyond your belief
Oh get it now that the getting's good, figured I wouldn't I would
Figured I couldn't but could
Sitting in soot
Volcanic ash on my foot and the magma splashes my dreads
I can't imagine my mansion, I know Mt. Shasta's my bed
You do the dance of the dead and I'll sing the song of the living
When the crowd's turning red overhead the passion is driven
It's even Steven from here to the friggin' valley that's hidden
I really hope that you dig it, not perfect, only forgiven

First of all, Officer, I don't know how I got here
That was Martinelli apple cider and not beer
I'll take a sobriety test, passing it all clear
I could parallel a dump truck or a John Deere
Loosen the cuffs, homie, it's bruising me up
My momma told me that the LAPD was corrupt
So you gonna let a brotha go now or what'
I've got a show to do tonight, who's gonna hold down the cut'
Floating on a tight rope, gloating cause it's true
Never slipped, not even on cold morning dew
Triple pit bull instinct with a righteous point of view
Subsequently born for all of you, check it out now
My liquid scriptures are aquatic with Cerwin Vega speakers
Strapped to both sides of the gills for illest ability ever
Macrobiotic I got it, I'm on it
Sonnets of a somber Sunday afternoon, Traveling Circus for you