Skeptics Apocalypse

Lyrics

[Verse 1] My charity's like Wyclef, my tour bus smelly Like Spicoli at the food machine, I need more jelly The Skeptics Apocalypse, Henny blood shakes heavy My uncle Mike caught a murderer with sheepskin Reggie Shot the prison up, laughin' gas mask, with a cheaper Dutch Doom Rap, my goons' traphouse eat the bodega junks Sister Christian, Rick James beads, Viacom coke Delores bags, we launder that soap, Medina dope Hang the Pope, back with a Mac in a Tenspeed 5802 Farragut Road where the pimps be Arsenals like Conrad Murray, guns all flurries Never drop the matzah, you can die in a hurry I rock the new Tacchini sludge lord, Mexican drugstore Cut you in your expedition, that's what the blood's for [Chorus (x2)] My cult poppin' that Glock, my cult worship Satan My cult loves being watched, my cult carve your face in My cult huggin' the block, my cult devastation My cult World War Gore, no time for elevation [Verse 2] Celebratin' blood orgies and witch doctors I don't work for Scientologists, I ain't buyin' their product Travolta flies you to Mars in his jet you can ride for 80 mill' IFO's with laser beams to shady grills Bloods and Crips got cocaine for CIA Colombian farmers got 85 cents a day Sammy Davis fucked Jane up in LaVey's crib I wish I had the footage when JMJ was fuckin' killed Glenwood Projects thrash, to pallbearers Skate like ball bearings, cult kids, we Porsche grabbers Sports handlers, acid tabs, Willy Wonkas You get your brain squashed out lookin' like chimichangas Graphite powder, fingerprints depicted Burglary victims, my projects murder for new prescriptions [Chorus (x2)] [Verse 3] Cut the lamb with seven horns, seven eyes and seven blessings My chest covered with twenty pounds fully connected The specialist, American terrorist Send you to major dispensers, so the population is shrinkin' Bombs and moccasins, I'm 'bout it like Tim Ozman Cinematography, I paint pictures like Reaganomics Some underground like Cheney bunkers and cures for Hodgkins My goons fly to New York strictly to cop Rugers Under the radar, we paranoid type but still ruthless Constellations align when you get the right shooters Grandpops, he died in his room wearin' my blue Pumas We lost students Hashem losin' the boar Judas Bury him in his favorite suit, at 50 grams 40 low with the casket, I said goodbye and kissed his hand My heart pumps strychnine, my hate vegetates From Times Square to Tehran we detonate [Chorus (x2)]