verse 1 sub terrain hurricane i am the unexplained play your numbers i guarantee you the fun and games will fuck with your eyesight like a right hook to your blindside in a prize fight with iron mike tyson might and i am the type that could happily die on the mic im like tlc forever keep my left eye on the mic ima write this dynamite until the beat gets old til im retired or at least until my feet get cold til the respect fold actually fuck it if i was rapping for other people id have never begun it i dont rap for the fans i dont rap for the critics l rap for the love and i love it if you happen to feel it a handful of kids are down to hang like a stalactite it s not enough just having rhymes you gotta have the appetite and that is why mantra fly like a satellite keeping that shit live feed em rap to keep the fans alive chorus sentences so sick they should be serving time we walk the line instead of working for a worthless dine we should be in the pen for penning such perfect rhymes perpetrator of the perfect crime this isn t something you can learn with time this ain t the type of gold you can simply search and find we should be in the pen for penning such perfect rhymes perpetrator of the perfect crime verse 2 i never cut corners still im well rounded on a search for perfect i got much warmer and then i yelled found it but i hate ego and might as well drown it in countless 12 ounces pounded til i find myself grounded down with weak sauce and half efforts so common to rap records who the hell turns the heat off in bad weather oh you write songs with the least thought that s clever let s skip the peace talks and see which of us kicks ass better l treasure the mean songs that i have done it seems wrong but i guess the fans do too the way they pirate them your favourite hired gun who gets paid supplying fun ways to make a biting punk wanna take his life and jump jump up and get down there s many a nut in the pub who love the sick sound so put up 20 bucks on this round for the king down your head ain t big enough for this crown verse 3 still looking for worthy target two good eggs in a bad market where a double act means a another rap slash scam artist ain t got no gats in the crew but if you re asking to lose you can catch like alan arkin we chase the light but roam into the darkness if home is where the heart is then we ll open up your carcass even unconscious we speak brilliant nonsense the monstrous mandiggy and louis logic 2 truly unruly artists who came to break the mold we liberated the cake it holds and ate it whole we put a face on bold the brave captains of innate rappin they wanna take our souls it aint happenin i hope you re strapped into your chairs phone your chaplain and ask him to fit ya into his prayers folks are clappin rappersll begin to despair hopes collapsin for tacklin such an infamous pair