whether drawn in flour on flat ground or traced in the air the sign of the crossroads is always the juncture where communication between worlds is established where the traffic of energy and forces between them is set up i own a book handwritten only one in the whole damn mitten black leather bindings ancient all them other replica s ain t shit it smells of death with a hint of garlic i dropped it once it blood stained the carpet it talks to me as i turn the pages every one that owned it died i m courageous taught me how to bend a spoon with my mind and now i can twist the head off a spine i throw knives that don t really exist yet they split a body up into kibbles and bits i m cryptic hoodoo doomed in time and when i die you can summon me through these rhymes i deal with the dead and make a promise or two in return they grant me the power of hoodoo boo bitch get scared cause i m about to get weird beware when the dead come calling from out the mud their crawling i m powerful now i ll be the same in death spirits have passed through my icy breath talk about wicked shit i m neck deep in it the book taught me well and i can use it any minute i might play games massage your brains before you just a pile of remains take your soul into dementia and leave it there the worse place you can be i feed off your fear i jump through portals anytime i please i keep jars full of eyes they draw flies and bees while i chant alone rattling bones banging my skin drum we re not alone  i ll throw a hex x4 i ll hex you x4 i throw a hex x4 i ll hex you x3 yeah psychopathic records detroit michigan the birthplace of the wicked shit introducing big hoodoo hoodoo is what i do1