The Trilogy

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Jehst] This saga will be spoken in three parts startin' from the moment this tree sparks Opponents get broken like weak hearts Step into my theme park, the beast can't fuck with my karma Any drama's confined to these speech marks Margins and paragraphs Bastard tried to sabotage, but can't see past the camouflage Pay-phone chameleon, my tone disappears into thin air My skin reflects light like I'm not there I cotch where the skyline's ashtray gray but shine amber And always stay cloaked below the wide-angled spy camera Mind tangled by the Thai ganja My words rep the downtrodden like a strike banner Analog data — know me as the codebreaker Smoked out, playin' poker with the lone ranger Puttin' LSD in your salt shaker And if it's in bad taste? Well, fuck it! That's my own flavour The stone-age beat maker I'm huntin' for drums, runnin' my tongue along the gum on this free paper Another young-freak of nature Dirty faced crate-raider Buy now/pay later for my open mic night capers Alternatively, taste the fire of these fiber-tipped light sabers Any time wasters taken by the tie-breaker You're better off skydivin' off a skyscraper [Verse 2: Ricochet] Props to Edmonton, I'm bringin' the light like Thomas Edison Swingin' like pocket-watches and pendulums Big-up the felondem and fuck coppers! I'm half-a-millennium ahead of them fools like Buck Rogers (So wicked!) Like my villainous mum, Attila the Hun Would've paid anyone a million for killin' her son I bring oblivion with street adlib I'm tearin' through a braire and a crew like cheap fabric It's like a trilogy, we link often Devisin' ways of takin' out these MCs before they blink (Pop 'em!) My blank papers, I put ink on 'em Then I be spittin' writtens so sick, shit! My shrink's got 'em Certain pricks will be hurtin' if Ric's lurkin' I'm a sick person, stick-up kid like Dick Turpin And I'm controllin' your soul like I was opium And vocally blowin' up shows, spittin' petroleum Sparkin' half a gram, dark and I'm rather prang My crew travels in four-packs tighter than lager cans 'Cause I'm the phattest ever marga-man I've got the darkest fans who start arson in the parks after jams Now I'm part of the fam', my plan's simple Spit a murderous verse, I rip like Van Winkle! Pass me the resin, I'll flip the script so far up it's own arse I'll leave the startin' part as the ending [Verse 3: Tommy Evans] Yo, beneath the underdog, fightin' the fat cats Cloaked by London fog, writin' in fat caps My pseudonym — a toilet cubicle doors The conductor constructs a musical score My beautiful chords are suitable for all sorts I stand tall, does that mean I won't fall short? I think not! That's the reason why I drink lots My shrink's shot, I see demons in the ink blots As the sphinx plots my purpose, I stay civil Tryin' to decipher the meanin' of her riddles The mixed signals, a bit fickle Femme fatale smash egos if they're a bit brittle A ginnels by twilight, I adjust my eyesight My life's finite — rewind, watch the highlights A man born with implanted memories Fell void, can't test 'cause I lack empathy Chased relentlessly by a force from Hell Caressed by a touch of evil like Orson Welles Film Noir third man, I dwell in the cursed land This is my truth — I'm tellin' it first hand! [Outro] "The trilogy will be heard"