The Mad Conductor - Chillin In The Columns lyrics

I'm a 700th generation, gun powder fed, fully Venom bred, Kamakura Shogunate Ninja Dragon Sword, Razor's Edge Silent in my quadrant watching Martin Without a TV set in my apartment and the cable's dead My evil idiom'll beat your equilibrium And leave you off balance like your boy without his lithium And no, not just a sliver Kid, I never shiver when I'm sittin' by the river I got the Member's Only black bomber with the zipper zipped Then I'm stompin' off quick, rhythm is Symarip Hip to lip a flimmerick Shut your power off and snip your candle wick Remember when they used to burn women on a stick? 'Cause they thought God was tee'd off So they tarred 'em up Like Lenny D battin' lead off Spittin' chaw at y'all Spinnin' Marley Marl I'm oxen free as ollie y'all And ollie I'll spike the volley ball While rockin' leather, Shredder metal wrist guards As I approach from the East Flyin' coach 'cause it's cheap Off the coast of Han's isle Twenty deep, minus nineteen Lime green Venom in the stream I befriended two women in the cell, supposed weather makers Accused of brewing storms that ruined several hundred acres Through enchantment of a spell My only confidants in this mad captivity Where it seems a right mind lacks symmetry Given he can only see one half of the vicinity Then, with shackles on our forearms Guards forced us to the court yard Where my friends were tied fast to a stake In the center of a bed of dry gra** Ever since then I always unplug the jack in the month of the Drac My food is not of man I destroy both the lamb and the kid to glut my appetite Your bones fracture when the trap is tight I'm rippin' through ya' like rotten lettuce The hovel menace with the neck bolt fetish Lady bug, lady big fly away home Your house is on fire And your kids are all alone! And the lids about to blow off of the kettle My stomp could pluck a mountain bike pedal Though I never take it down to trite levels In the loft amongst piles of hay I break jars of clay With my gamma ray vision from a mile away Don't even swing when I slay my opponent with a sickle I advanced on a pa**ed third strike Then came a triple They caught me in a pickle So I ducked down and vortexed the catcher Like a plumber with a whistle There goes your perfect game, your no-hitter and your shut-out I'm goin' nuts like a Somalian pirate With his Alpha Kappa - two score and seven Seek the dug out, cause I'm about to bug out No reason for the action, sometimes for mere satisfaction Never kept the mind fed with mad maggots in the swine's head And Simon says nothin' 'cause the rocks still crushin' Not like a redneck cop and his second cousin With the powerful percussion of a hundred bores a'comin' Gainin' faster than a witch without a parka when it's rainin' Man, you'd better scatter, before the pack scraps your data Tyrannosaurus Rex treks your matter Black cats and ladders for fools strappin' sally bats Rockin' rally caps, checkin' Rand-McNally maps for the token I swing a wooden Louisville in Poland 'til your swollen Your neck is out of tune and strummin' open chords I turn back lips into broken boards I fell through the rafters and landed on a picket fence In Bellvue, Nebraska