[Infamous Mr. Savage]
Who be that ill nigga creepin' out da jungle
Wit an axe and a knapsack? Let's get ready to rumble!
Tumble through the thresholds of hell in a cipher
When I decipher rhymes with the precision of a sniper-
Get hyper, get open, get ripped apart
I got the crossbow in hand, got the sites aimed at your heart
So start your beef if you wanna chief
I'm a cut your body up-feed it to the sharks in the coral reef
The Soul Kids haven't-nor would the Soul Kids ever
Get played. Niggas get sprayed, heads get severred!
With the lyrics that are relevant..for the hell of it
I rip a rapper's frame because my flow is excellent!
Yeah! Wit' da ill tune I'm bringing pain soon
To the one who imitates me like he's Shang Tsung!
And ya know we can't have that
The Infamous is well-trained in the art of Mortal Combat! [G-Clef Da Mad Komposa]
My style descends from Italian witticism
Coveyed upon an arc from Roman Catholic mysticism
Illuminati tracing chalk around your body!
A sick phukking animal like a Rap John Gotti
Conducting classes through the glasses of Al D'Amato
I'm out to cause change like the death of Castellano-
G-Clef, in ya ear produces fear..
Vibrations that inflict like the horns of a steer!
I write raps in Latin, translated for my rituals
To Gregorian chants, to soothe my savage wrants
My Mortal Combat is a "mirror match"
Between two opposing poles of a Gemini Sun's soul!
I'm laying tracks at the Vatican-in Rome
With such a sick tone, the phukkin Pope is panicking!
He wanna battle? He must be joking!
My A.S.R. will leave his SP-12 smoking!
[Storm Da Ghetto Mutant]
Storm representing like the weather
Y'all bitches is cold fronts, I flow once, you'll
Feel my rains of terror..
I'm scaring niggas like "Lorena" with some scissors
A Ghetto Mutant, climbing ya walls like The Lizard
The Black Sonya skilled in nine degrees of Combat
Mortals that react get their spine ripped out they back!
You blowin up? So watch me drop you like a load
Blow my kiss of death to make your phukkin' ass explode![Blakspik]
Let me flip the script on the real, I wanna bug!
Cuz here comes the man Allah fashioned in black mud!
Run for cover! My shit is unstable..
You savor-the flavor-the nigga spitting razors!
I'm heading for Armageddon with two clips loaded
So nigga start running-it's da Blakspik that's coming!
I walk on the block with my Glock on lock
And if ya get froggy that's it baby pop..
PBOW! I hit ya wi' a style..ya wet up..
Some new improved shit that cold fucked ya whole head up
So step up, and dance with the devil if ya froggy
I lock like a Maspeth when I take your last breath..
Run for cover, I'll take ya tape recorder
And bag ya crew...in alphabetical order!
Y'all know my steelo, so what's up knokka?
Mortal Combat from the Puerto Rican spear-chucker!
[Goodfella Mike G.]
Word is bond from the Bush to Malaysia
I'm wacking shmuck stoonads like I'm Albert Anastasia
The greaseball guinnie with the flav of saltin bakka
I'm ice like Gravanno, slicin' suckers like 'Baraka'
Blood Honor...unveil the vile 'Reptile' drama
Now I slam on the jam like Sam Giancana
So run to the hills like Iron Maiden
Cuz I spark mic's with lighting like the thunder god 'Raiden'!
Volare' Wo-oah! I freeze emcees like 'Sub-Zero'
DeNiro of the mic, a man of respect ya love to fear
I harpoon ya like 'Scorpion'... (get over here!)
Goodfella Mike G., you know the flow's mafioso
But emcees be so-so, and chicken, like orzo
While I'm catching wreck like Mike Piazza
And shooting gift like Mancini with dat Boom-Boom-ZAZA!!!

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