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[Sample (Melody): The Mystic Moods Orchestra - “Something”] [Intro: Kong] One, two, one, two. Kongcrete, the most hideous. Check it, check it, check it [Verse 1: Kong] Smoking Hash, leave an open ass broken, stash floating fast Lifted. Kong with the broken glass Slurper, a nasty nigga fuck Bertha Insert it further than murder, pulled out then squirt her Alpha murder, alpha murder, murder Alpha murder, pull the squeeze then hurt her Out for cheddar, piece of cheese, when in doubt, love Took Alicia’s Keys in and out love, ate nine Hate all, hate on fakes, cornballs is fake Find your body at your dawg’s wake, barking Create comment when I start to spit, y’all Niggas spit conformant, Kong bombing [Verse 2: Megalon] Study every religion there is, rhythm for kids deadly as venom is This hemorrhage friends of his I’m like a guinea pig with a skinny snitch And me big like a penny rich—hear me, bitch—ready to let the semi spit Here he is. Is he really sick or is he really picked to see The vict’ or is he really dead for what he did? Let the machete Rip, spaghetti drip. Ready, get set, ready Go, ready to rock machete flow to let you know we’re ready to go Is he heavy? Is he petty? I was Hungry, so they fed me, yo. For heavy dough, I need Some heavy dro. Megalon in your stereo Ready to shoot the heady, yo. Yo! [Verse 3: Rodan] Lyrics of death wrap—this how the letter bond, yo, Megalon Pass that Megatron, gods on a hunt like a Predacon Smoking cedar wood trees from Lebanon. Fascist sprites on MTV Terrorist threats looped on my MPC Travel at a hundred eighty-six thousand kilobytes per second Downloaded on the MP3 1995 Long Island, iced-out in an MVB Monsta Island escaped from MCC [Verse 4: Kong] By any means, many fiends akin to toast teens Toast the scenes for the hoes to scream Mostly seen by the avoiding get down here when Luciani ‘hind me Behind Pataki, busting shots with Giuliani Bust back I’ll squeeze rapping niggas—y’all, quit acting like it could happen My MAC-10 made big niggas backspin—what happened? [Verse 5: Megalon] Is that so? Tommy Brasco stack dough, you lack flow My abstract flow for cashflow turn cocaine to crack and turn crack to blow Now the fuck that go? I wanna fuck that ho The white ho and the black ho lay on your back, ho They made the track slow so I could rap slow Tommy mack hoes, yo, yo My gun is like my girl ‘cause I don’t wanna let my gat go I sold crack fast, now I sell crack slow In the back, on the low. If you ain’t got no dough Come to the back door. I’ll give you a full pack at four Rock rap shows, L be on the map when I blow R&B rap takes it in the ass-crack slow At my last show, I snatched gold, Black Jesus It’s a Black Christmas—now picture black snow [Verse 6: Rodan] Ayo, we calculate the sands of time in slow-mo Manipulating every moment through space, metabolize the seeds of wealth to let the dough flow Committing acts of violence and hate crimes against the po-po Double-barreled, handheld bazooka for Sergeant Shitface if you want to start fronting like you Robo Blaze that bush, whether your Mary Jane is def or even if it’s so-so. Teasing bitches with ice cubes on their nipple, keep them playing with their yo-yo Athletic pussy like Lisa Leslie and Rebecca Lobo Rock the show from uptown, downtown to Tribeca, Soho Most of these rappers R&B singers like K-Ci & JoJo Better off harmonizing with Taj, Leigh Leigh and Coco Thespian thugs, niggas is all mouth like the Rolling Stones logo Bianca Jagger, fee-jacker, jacking me off in a go-go Stuff down their throats, spitting completely bobo Keeping it groovy without the synthetic fucking mojo Got the spot kicking like a donkey locked up inside a dojo Smack Ralph Lauren, got Tommy Hilfiger picking cotton, rocking Polo [Bridge: Megalon] Is that so? [Verse 7: Kong] Niggas stay lifted Bring the biscuit, bring the bitches, bring the motherfucking statistics Bring the death certificates Um, don’t forget the four blocks—peace to Fort Knox, where the four stops