Order & Chaos (feat. Ill Bill)

He was the middle son of three children, lived in my building
 He went to Tildon, quiet cat, always kept to himself
 He never chilled with anybody but his girlfriend, drove an '82 Whirlwind
 Homie's grades in school was perfect
 Honour student with a talent for mathematics
 Used to design computer graphics in class instead of doodling
 I would write rhymes, smoke blunts on the bench at night time
 While he was doing his homework and watching Nightline
 Looking over MIT brochures,
 Invitations to the Pentagon from headhunters of course
 I heard that NASA was inquiring about his status
 He was about to be a rookie in the NBA of mathematics
 A rock star, most astronauts first round draft pick
 Amongst physicists and cancer doctors
 Then the CIA recruited him to be a shooter
 I set him up so that Diabolic could shoot him
 We planned assassination plots, lasers attached to gats that pop
 Finely glued to the top of the barrel, the average shot
 Could take two people's heads off simultaneously
 Aiming at cranium spraying them in the coffin displaying them
 This that shoot you in the face movement
 Bill and Diabolic is like Schwarzenegger and Stallone in the same movie
 I'm like Bronson in the Violent City
 Freedom fighter like Mumia, kill cops in Philly, listen.
 duce a little anarchy. Upset the established order and everything becomes chaos.
 I'm an agent of chaos. Oh, and you know the thing about chaos?
 It's fair.
 It was a quarter past eight o'clock,
 Bill called me and he named the spot
 This vacant lot around the way from the bagel shop
 He schooled me to exactly how the CIA would plot
 To make hip hop's value nothing more than a Jacob watch
 Illustrated by what's built with ancient blocks
 And the all-seeing eye through Jay's hand that portrays the Roc
 Not to worry, I had Engineer pay the cops
 So they would not respond to the calls about a fatal shot
 I later topped this roof viewing through a sniper scope
 What I like to call a future murder scene with righteous hope
 About to light a smoke when two headlights approached
 Rifle smoke strikes when they touch ground like lightning bolts
 Twice the volts in the same spot amazingly
 It's two birds, one stone, met his partner from the agency
 Was ex-KGB, defected through the State Department
 Wanted by authorities for treason, he's been made a target
 Took my position with this loaded rifle, aimed and sparked it
 A single shot killed them both, blood stained their garments
 Guess all the CIA and NASA training in innate matter
 When his brains splattered on the pavement as his face shattered
 The day after is used to cover tracks and lock the fortress
 Shot up sources and disposed of all their rotting corpses
 I know it's stunning, we ain't running like some track stars
 We chill with bodies buried in Uncle Howie's backyard.