Verbal Experiments

Hah Hahahah...
 From the dungeons of darkness
 Comes God's Gift to Hip Hop
 Representin' with the LP
 [God's Gift]
 We'll hit 'em hard and fast in a straight line
 Concentrating all firepower to their blindside at sunrise
 Operation sunray, UV radiation
 First breach their outer barriers then continue penetration
 To their central point, crushin' their nucleus
 Rushing their central brain command
 Planting a virus that expands
 Through your whole nervous system shutting down all communications
 To your ya bodily functions Handicapping your defenses
 Swiftly attacking your unit, Neutralizing MC's
 By ripping 'em apart before they even know what hit 'em
 Style blitz
 [Wild Child]
 Jack gets pissed off, wack MC's step up and get lost
 The rhythmic boss, Jack spits rhymes through my teeth like floss
 I bust with motivation to uplift MC's with
 High above controlling stratus clouds, my man God's Gift
 Come down, assist us, wack MC's must be reminded
 Get a Lootpack tape, rewind it, for those closed minded
 To the abstract we kick, we rock all places
 I found out MC's aren't human cuz they got two faces
 They be chillin', willin', always time killin'
 Wack rumor spillin' while Jack be still in charge
 Asking me if I smoke chronic, niggas it's ironic
 I'm Wild Child, 80% human, 20% bionic
 My main occupation is to step up and rock the nation
 Focus up upon my jam and blow up just like inflation
 So if you ain't down, don't front, worry about your health
 Worry about your wack crew and ya wack ass self
 [Madlib]
 Hey yo, here comes the Master Don, here to renovate
 My style hits ya like marble weights so pass the dinner plate
 But pass up the swine like money ya rhyme lime
 Madlib done told ya time and time again
 Find the mental maze, faster ya plaster your instrumental
 With lyrical disaster till you scream out "Who's the master?"
 I flip it up rip it up to raw addict,
 Crate diggin' for the static when I mad beat shop
 Impulse down to prestige and Black Jazz
 21st Century enja got mad
 Record labels of the old, ill loop and take 'em out
 I keep it secret when a nigga tries to peep shit
 My beat hit like a Roy Jones Jr. skit
 Your girl starin so now you wanna flip
 I rip it down to the Loot while ya yell peace
 While I pull out my piece, yell peace but now leave ya in pieces
 But at least you escaped this beast
 Smokin' on a cushin' leaf while ya try to bring grief
 [God's Gift]
 Now something's shaking in the palace, can't you feel the Santa Ana
 Switching currents and building velocity, it got's to be
 God's Gift and Lootpack, mentally superior master race of lyricists
 Conductiong verbal experiments
 With open and imaginitive creativity
 Fathering styles from infancy to be lyrically
 Complete, grown and fully developed adults
 Trained in mastering total blitz coastal, total assaults
 Also we launch all out war when we tour your area
 First destroying your local underground spots
 Rocked your major clubs and plugged into your theatres
 Advancing as hip hop's vocabulary leaders
 Hostile take-overs is our main focus
 As the deadliest of CDP special attack forces
 Basically, MC's lack division is appalling
 Third rate styles with the nerve to say they're vocalists
 Out of focus, often it's the people they run with
 Coupled with their own wackness, they're futureless!
 "And keep feedin you, and feedin you..." - 'Method Man' by Wu-Tang Clan
 *Scratches and various talk to end*