"Yo man what's up man?"
"Just gonna cool out and do our... do our... you know what I mean?"
"Let's do that, let's do that"
[Verse 1: Wildchild]
Call me a little psychopath, riding on a cycle
Cats can't help to lock themselves up with me
Because they might blow they mind up
I'm known to blow your plans and kill your blessings
Born upon the day Grandmaster Flash made "The Message"
If you don't know, making moves worldwide, I suppose
F a record label, I got distribution by the nose
On the down low, I go on blind dates with body organs
Staying undiscovered to doctors, they find me up in the morgue
And autopsies, and to make it clear
With my friends on the mirror
I'll dance while razorblades chop my hair
I slope down your senses before your vision denses
'Til the past becomes the present tenses
Get yours!
Get yours!
(Ayo Wild, tell 'em 'bout that cat Jeff)
[Verse 2: Wildchild]
Jeff was a cat we knew, life turned critical
He turned to the base, not the music though, the chemical
Glancing at him before he passed out while he was dancing
No one knew he was sniffing bodily enhancements
Other (?) chilling in the class before each study
Tissue boxes on the desk in case his nose got bloody
Getting past class cleverly to (?)
'Til one day out of his pocket dropped an hour shaped glass
And along with the glass, also dropped his ill scholarship
Secluded himself from family, concluded to call it quits
I rushed up to his door with a hard "knock knock"
And then waited 'fore busting in, found him on (?)
Contaminated, plus faded
(?) like he was in a state of denial
Looking at it with the crack fiends
Visualizing the ill way that they smile
He started struggling, an hour later my body took 3 jabs
It was cool though, 'cause by then, he was ass up in rehab
What was weird though, woke up next morning to see
Diagnosed with split personality, locked up, it was me
(I'm rocking with my blaster, plain get retarded)
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