Street Trash 2 - Electric Boogaloo

by Street Trash

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about

Mach Spitz & Kabal are... "Street Trash"
STREET TRASH 2 - ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

Starring Cory "Mach Spitz" McCallum as "Burt"
& Kevin "Kabal" Theodoropolus as "Fred"

Lyrics & Vocals by:
Mach Spitz (C.McCallum)
Kabal (K.Theodoropolus)

All music arranged & produced by: Kabal
except where noted otherwise in song info.

credits

released June 17, 2017

Produced by: Kabal (K.Theodoropolus)
Co-produced by: Mach Spitz (C.McCallum)

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license

all rights reserved

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Street Trash Ontario

Indy underground rappers Mach Spitz & Kabal join forces once again, this time as Street Trash

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Track Name: Intro (A.K.A.)
Intro (A.K.A.)

Burt:
Unh son this is Burt from the Street Trash, son.
Trouser Town 2k16, the original bong hitting 6 time flowlympian Mach Spitz AKA The Master of the Chorus the Pzaman the Clit Commander the White Mr T Dirk Bigly AKA Flash Cordon AKA the Decrepit Man AKA the inimitable unlimitable SNAKE ARMS fresh out the pit. I'm talking straight out the tenafly warehouse Rest in peace to my man Slack DeVille the Carolina Vagina Smasher OMB ORIGINAL Miami Boy AKA The Verb burglar Turd Ferguson AKA MO'hammered Alley AKA The velveeta Fog Scotch Walker aka Montag the Magnificent what's poppin. You better reckonize...this is The Don de la Wheeeze aka 5K serving up brass knuckles and turnbuckles AKA The Mach-o Man Randy Sandwich the Bob Backlund of the pen protector set AKA the Old Dog Sypher Squad alumnus and starting power forward AKA the most slept on Mic Bossy AKA the Raptriloquist sock doctor Mic Capone the Victor Luis Borges of the new millennium. Names just got dropped. Pick yer poison. Check yer denim and neck for venom you Pant rollin shit talking half steppers. Now Fred...give these mouth breathing backslapping high five jiving fancy moustache cultivating motherfuckers the 411!!!

Fred:
oh you know it homie. Street Trash Fred up in your head for the 2k17... I be the weird scary white kid from back in the day that lived around the way AKA the one your mother warned you about AKA Kevin Snuffleupagus AKA Kevin Popadopolous AKA young Renfield the bug eater and girl stealer AKA That crazy dude who's impervious to pain AKA The hot rod killer Kevin Piper AKA The OG B Boy Kev Adrock AKA the hockey mask stalker Kevin the terrible AKA MC KEV T in the place to be from 83' until infinity AKA The 80s BBS SySop known as Leatherface AKA The kid who crashed pagers and party lines as Anthrax AKA the garbage pail kid with a social disorder AKA Theo AKA Kevin Splatterhead AKA Kevin Maggot Brain AKA Kevy Manson with the ruggedly handsome shit AKA The original GrassHopper dope beat dropper AKA The 3 n Pass master blaster & designated b.t.cooker AKA the black belt jones of the microphone breaking your wack felt bones AKA the Satin Luci Wigga who loves devil music AKA the Grift of all grifters & the Dirk of all Digglers AKA pimp daddy 3000 AKA Q.P. Shizzanks AKA quarter pound Theo AKA Quadruple Shanks up in your memory banks AKA Don Stefano AKA Michael Longbourne the porno rap freak of the sex rhyme sheets AKA Long Don Johnson eating MCs like Swanson's AKA Cigar face still turning suckers good looks into human ashtrays AKA Grandmaster Theo AKA Master T AKA Kevy Metal AKA KevyKev Rockwell AKA the rap spewing Rasputin AKA K Bizzy Ballz AKA the Chopper Read of rap AKA the Hank Moody of hip hop AKA Theokoles dropping philosophies like Socrates AKA the man known as Kabal who fades them all...and if you can't say it all just say Street Trash...

Stupid pookies, fuckin' play too much...
Track Name: Electric Boogiemen
Electric Boogiemen

(V1. Burt)
Burt’s back, baby, better buy yer bitch a bodybag
Naturally i’m knocking nikes with every naughty nag
Trash pickin shit kicking hullabalooser
Cash nickin pit hick the first steps a doozer
A dozer, a doozie, y’all floozies got to snoozing
Two years off, & now we back to rippin ears off
Eye necklaces, Feets in trophy cases
Making choice noises while y’all making Sophie faces
No erasies, no touchbacks, no rules kid
Junkyard is open again, watch yer jewels kid
Cuz we be snatchin again, jacket-patchin again
We be the nice lice the itch you fucking scratching again
There ain’t no matchin the pin, hear the ding dong
Yer down fer 5 punk, clowned you like we King Kong
Bundy, we Gacy, we Manson, Rodriguez
We murdered yer mom’s bush, see what she says

(CHORUS)
Fuck off with prequels, Trash dropping sequels
Mashed, in cahoots we re-boot goofs and “equals”
Air-quotes abound as we drip the sarcastic
Spastic, yer clowned as we flip the fantastic
Eclectic, we wreck yer decks with our Boogaloo
Electric dreck from the depths of the double-you
Double-you dot com we rock on the sweet meats
Wild style the freaks, pile up geeks on these Beat Streets

(V2.Fred)
Fred's back baby, rhyming with precision hard,
Life's wack & crazy, down at the collision yard/
Where all the street trash still be congregating,
Sleeping in a crashed car is still accommodating/
& like Burt said, a couple years have driven by,
Forget being dope kid, I'm flyer than Tenafly/
Going full throttle, flipping off the handle,
My trophies are empty viper bottles sitting on the mantle/
Running from the po-po and running your jewels,
Then I run them to the pawn shop,
because everybody knows that cash rules/
Snatch fools wallets pick pocketing,
An urban pirate with no water swashbuckling/
Downing more colt 45s than stone cold Steve Austin,
Fold you in half with a crab from Boston/
Strangler, Green River Killer,
Suffocating boom bap when Burt and me deliver/

(Chorus)

(V3.Burt)
Dump chumps (we know it) weed fiends (we grow it)
Punk punks (we own it) reap when we sow shit
Bump bump (we blow it) Systems we CRUSH
Step to the streets and yer face getting MUSH
Guess I oughta mention, best you pay attention
Rest of y’all are wrench-fucking suckers causing tension
Stay for detention, write out your lines kid
Don’t be jackin mine this shit blows minds kid
Fred’s fucking frantic, calculated, candid
Busters never paid for the shade they demanded
Don’t poke the bears here, this dump is a graveyard
Pass the machete, Fred, chumps catch a shave hard
Box office boasters be warned and we wary
B-level devils be levelling if necessary
We fucking predicate predicaments, we predatory
Sleepers dreaming if they think they’ve seen a better Cory

(Chorus)

(V4.Fred)
Dope steez (we run mics) Olde geez (we son tykes)
Sweet mash (we chug like) Street Trash (we bum fight)
Smash crash (you're done right) crushing with the punishing,
The Flatbush foot brigade pummeling & bludgeoning/
Soup kitchen henchmen, duping with dissension,
& cross face chicken wings with hyper extensions/
Viper in the bong water, hard throw, douse clowns,
I huff & I puff & blow your cardboard house down/
Bust a windmill, then bust you till your wigs peeled,
skid row killing fields, put you through your windshield/
Just like Bronson with the one hand gorilla slam,
My main man Burt stealing chicken by the kilogram/
Hock your rocks & gold nuggets & rubies,
With more bang for your buck than a low budget B movie/
Boozing all day, home made Sneaky Pete,
Electric Boogiemen boogalooing on the freaky beat/

(Chorus)
Track Name: Mr. Nice Guy
Mr. Nice Guy

(V1. Burt)
Used to be the good kid used to be the pet
Used to being spiffed up Sunday best
Used to being topside combed hair cropped
Grew up, shit blew up, the bubble popped
Got used to seeing greed, got used to being used
Got used to being cut, turned away and refused
Got used to being picked on mocked and abused
Used to waking up while the real world snoozed
Got used to being pissed off, used to being pissed
Used to even being at the bottom of the list
Got used to the noise got used to the abyss
Got used to the razor poised o'er the wrist
Got used to the hate, used to the rage
Got hooked on the mic and the pen and the page
Now I use em to get used to the future
Useless motherfuckers in my path catch a suture

(Chorus)
No more Mr.Nice guy, no more Mr.Clean,
No more Mr.Nice guy, they say he's sick he's obscene/

(V2. Fred)
Used to be innocent used to be a sweet child,
Long before the days of gin and juice out in the streets wild/
Used to being disciplined, parental parameters,
Used to thinking out the box because my mental is rectangular/
Used to being the weird kid in fact I embraced it,
Got used to seeing the other kids entrapped in the fake-ness/
Used to the "No"s got used to the "Told ya so"s,
The attempted mind control, cruising by you hold your nose/
Up in the air, but I don't even care,
Cus' I got used to looking through you like you weren't even there/
Got used to being the party trick for everyone's amusement,
Turning down the cliques looking for hired gun recruitment/
Used to being solo yet I was used to being a leader,
Used to paying PG then sneak in triple X theatre/
Got used to playing goalie, not a goal on me,
Not a soul on God's green "got a hold on me"/

(Chorus)

(V3. Burt)
Got blades for the rich, got hate for the pious
Got a lesson for the messers, got troof for the liars
Got a ruler for rulers now stick out yer palms
For all the old schoolers I got bombs
Got poison for pharma truckloads of karma
Ring the alarm bum I come with dharma
Words for the wordless room for the herdless
Scenes for the sceneless means for the beanless
Pain for the brainless names for the nameless
Targets and scopes for the used to be aimless
Fame for the feeders lurkin at the bottom
All the weak kids in the world? Yeah I got em
Got riffs for days got spliffs and haze
Got ways of making you walk, talk and phrase
Got friends got followers and fans
Got nothin but time now to act out my plans

(Chorus)

(V4. Fred)
Now I got ruckus on the faders, brass knucks for the haters,
Got deuces in the air see ya later alligators/
Got plans and blueprints, hands in new shit,
Plant my two feet and stand in true grit/
Rhymes and sweet treats, soiled street beats,
Tales from the crapper time on toilet seat tweets/
Got arsenal to lace em' all flat,
Never merciful with baseball bats/
I don't got gats but then again I'm not a bitch,
I got two hands banging with a lot of pitch/
Got bars for days, got raps for weeks,
Got cars to slay, in the back of seats/
You get no ends but you breathe my vapors, (&)
"I got no friends cus' they read the papers"/

(Chorus)
No more Mr.Nice guy, no more Mr.Clean,
No more Mr.Nice guy, they say he's sick he's obscene/
No more Mr.Nice guy, no more Mr.Clean,
No more Mr.Nice guy, they say, you're sick you're obscene/
Track Name: The Curses
The Curses

(V1. Burt)
Ever since I was a kid I had the blue mouth
Knew how to point the fucking needle to the due south
Folks shuddered while the words got uttered
I wasn't bothered cuz I knew where my bread was buttered
Other knuckledraggers never flip scripts
They shithead asshole motherfucker dipshits
But it wasn't very long before I hipped quick
That if you slip nun rulers hit yer fists quick
So I took to dropping bombs on the recess
Lopping feet offa fuckers trying to be best
Putting suckers in they place behind the portable
degenerate's expensive but a fuckface is affordable
Words are fucking weapons to a wee one
Catch a sucker steppin and you bettin it can be fun
Wrecking reps with jabverbs and kneenouns
Ding motherfucker, catch you later on the rebound

(Chorus)
Bad words linger, sticks can be broken
Mad nerds fingered, things deep get woken
Sometimes serious, dumblines we jokin
Numbnuts are furious, the curses got you curious

(V2. Fred)
I was born with the curse of the curses check the fucking script,
I spit the worst shit unpurposed back in 7 6'/
3 years old never heard the word muthafucka,
But I woke my folks up yelling it like a redneck trucker/
Scream profanities in my sleep on some next level,
So they just agreed their seed is possessed by the devil/
Reveled in the madness, rebel with the badness,
Other kids gawking as my tongue lash smack, bitch/
Once I started school I was known as Joe Cool,
Cus I would low blow fools with the curses so cruel/
Play the twelves on recess, like slaves with firm chores,
A playground legend in the game of Burn Wars/
My words send you home as the tears drip and flow
& yet I'm still chasing breaking bones with sticks and stones/
Then this kid hit his 40s and he's still a cussing sucker,
Shit, piss, tits, cunt, fuck, cocksucker, mother fucker/

(Chorus)
Track Name: Rags To Rags
Rags To Rags

(V1. Burt)
Fred he cooked a little sumpin for the classy crowd
The first wave Degrassi crowd the fuckin Freddy Blassie crowd
The pipe toting tooters with they ascots
They're our fucking mascots? Nah we rock the fucking trashbots
Cash, got nothin, news flash we skinty
Step to the streets and we straight gettin flinty
More like the Dinty fresh out the can kid
Words never minced nah we keep it nice and candid
Grimy couthy fountain of the youthy
New timey rhymers catch our two knees in the toothy
Never need a roofie with the pudding thick and proofy
We get down to bottoms like a couple of sleuthies
Sherlock Homey and Dr Watsup
Leave you with a stain like you messed up the catsup
Naps up suckers now it's time for the ball
Street Trash from the pit son there's nowhere to crawl

(Chorus)
Street Trash from rags to rags to more rags more rags more rags,
Street Trash from rags to rags to more rags more rags and more rags/

(V2. Fred)
Burt'll rip, the gruesome twosome grime, litter, piss mountain
Took a little trip to do some five finger disssssscounting/
Sniffing these hits up and sipping this ripple
While ripping these skids up & nipping this shit up,
security picked up, I'm tripping this bitch up,
While sipping on syrup and slipping this ketchup/
Down the waistband in the small of my pack,
Like I was packing a gat, but I'm just jacking for snacks/
Fill my slacks with goods, attacking juice boxes, food banking ganking fools
Pick pocketing, purse snatching, bowing down and thanking you/
Dining like a king and sing a song while chomping chicken wings,
Still tripping from these hits I slipped in Whoppers down at the Burger King/
I Burn bridges earning things, innards churn downing drinks,
Dirty bitch turning tricks, fill gurneys clowning kids,
Cardboard & housing shit, fire I'm dousing it,
Louses get hit with the Viper I piss out it/
Whacking moles, hacking bowls, smacking hoes, attacking foes,
Cracking blows, slapping goals, stacking dough & packing holes/
Brought the trash to the street with the smash of a beat,
Facing me you taste defeat, conceit, or get bashed in the teeth/

(Chorus)
Track Name: Statewide
Statewide

(. Fred)
I sleep under a heap of tires down at Statewide,
Sipping Sneaky Pete so I can start my day right/
A head like a cinder block, a mandible like trap jaw,
No reprobate has bested me in bum fighting, slap box/
Steal my brothers money so I can score some more hooch,
Sneaking out the collision yard and dip in a phone booth/
Laying low unnoticed from the Flatbush Foot Brigade,
On the corner with their squeegees looking to get paid/
I can't get made or they'll be trying to squeeze me,
For my liquor and my money and that shit don't come easy/
Wizzy spotted me and hollered to Bronson so now I'm sprinting,
Down the sidewalk & jumped in a garbage truck stinking/
Hitched a few blocks, stopped at Bellview & Spader,
I hopped out the hopper "Yo homes, smell you later"/
Hit the wine store, sweating, wheezing & tuckered,
Swiping viper bottles from Ed cus he's a sucker/

(V2. Burt)
I hear punks a creepin the junk that I sleep in
The garbage my weapon the carnage they step in
The tin that I shiv with is sharp to begin with
If it doesn't kill them the poison will fill them
The little I hold tight through middle of cold night
Each day I collect it I'll slay to protect it
Yard I've erected from cardboard neglected
4 walls and a roof and a goof gets dissected
Catch em even close to the vicinity
Motherfuckers quick book a trip to the infinity
Or the infirmary I'm the vermin see
Get swissed by the old school Germany
Got a Greek in the clique and we fuck hard
Funktards get graveyards playing in the junkyard
Maybe we don't got much
But you step to the ST you straight get touched

(Chorus) X2
I'll tell you a story I'll tell you a tale
I'll sell you the glory we beyond the pale
We be on the gory tip toe the brink
Bluff tough or get blown in a blink
Track Name: The CV (Interlude)
The CV (Interlude)

Fred and Burt, kids, REPRESENTING the yards, all up in yer hard drive. One way or another, Blondie style. Peeps acting like they don't know the CV. PLEEEEASE.
What you know about the steez of our CVs? PLEEEEASE...

Rockin more hot hooks than a Burglar versed in pirate prosthetics
Dropping more rhymes than the love child of Dr.Suess & Mother Goose
Droppin more lines than a guy paintin football fields
Blazing more blunts than Redman, SnoopDogg AND the WuTang Clan
Unleashing more notes than a brinks delivery man with no hands
More beetz than the vegetable aisle of your local grocery store on stock day
Coming through like a ripped prophylactic
More goalie masks than the hockey hall of fame
Dropping more science than a chemist been eating popcorn
Dropping more shit than an elephant who just ate a crate of ex-lax
Wrapping more suckers than Chupa chups
Coming through stronger than a hopped up sperm cell on bull shark testosterone
Poking more holes than Tim Hortons
More wraps than the entire collective of the peoples prepping for Christmas
Slappin more babies than an angry ass obstetrician
Laying more pipe than the TransCanada pipeline workers combined in their lifetime
Killing more beefs than a butcher
More iced out than a hockey rink inside of a deep freezer in the Antarctic
Drilling more teefs than a dentist
More flows than a country full of hoes whose periods are in synch
Bringing more heat than a Coleman
Writing more lines than a school full of bad kids during detention
Dropping nouns and verbs like a Scrabble champ
More freestyles than every event in the history of the olympics
The Verbal version of no-doze, the linguistical equivalent of coffee thrice brewed
More linguistics than the scientific study of language book collection
Lopping off feet like a frostbite specialist
Dropping more jaws than all the great white fisherman of the world
preventing steppers like an escalator
Spewing more foam than a 6 pack of Mentos in a Coke-a-Cola bottle
Killing flows like a tampon, Turning heads like a fender bender
Spinning more heads than an Exorcist movie marathon
dropping jaws like a narcoleptic orthodontist
More rhyme books than the children's section of your local library
Laying tracks like John Henry
Hitting more bowls than every skateboarder on the planet
Moving more asses than a mule wrangler
Fresher than a newborn who just brushed his teeth while chewing Wrigley's gum
Wrecking more dance floors than e-popping hockey players
Shaking more asses than an epileptic twerking convention
Keeping it realer than a biographer's biographer
Moving more weight than a freightliner full of triple beam scales
Flipping more slices than a gymnastic pizza man
More words and verbs than your Grand daddy's encyclopedia collection
Wrecking more maps than a cartographer with Parkinson's?!?!
And always repping harder than all the Fathers with viagra erections...

Street Trash suckers. dontcha dare try and step to this,
you jive talking perpetrating cheese eating knownots. Recognize.
Track Name: Rap Apnea
Rap Apnea

(Chorus)
Chin off yer chest kid
Zin to the best kid
Been through the rest
Check the list of the bested
Bet you never guessed it
Yesterday you nested
That you'd get molested
...Rap Apnea....

(V1. Burt)
Like a kid caught dozin full of excuses
Street Trash we flows in and don't make truces
Eyelids droopin we loop your neck in nooses
High bid scoopin we doup a troop with deuces
Snoozers snap to, chins shine with juices
Losers crap in their pants, bowel loosens
Coming-to in a pan prepped for gooses
Beg for reprieve but then we refuses
Rusers foiled as ST peruses
Recipe boxes with locks off the news is
Unwelcome to some but we chew what we chooses
And you's is the main course, fucking losers
Cool all-inclusives on fall 2-week cruises
Your gall it infuses the flavour, reduce it
We savour the taste of you not staying lucid
Cuz soups at this table for two where my crew sit

(Chorus)

(V2. Fred)
Sleepers in bed, slip my shit in your deck,
Peep subliminal teachings while I creep in your head/
Attack with sleep paralysis, you're cursed right there,
Unaware my deepest dreams equal your worst night mare/
This ain't elm street, but it be the street trash,
Half steppers strutting, cutting leaving feet slashed/
Whatever man, the leather man, is in my hand for more fades,
Better than a veteran you're settling on four blades/
Quad to the druple to the S - H - Shizzzanks,
Knowing you in trouble when my best grade shivs clank/
Suckers get the cold sweats, come and place some more bets,
Mutherfuckers pour red, fucking with the gore vets/
Live a life of dreams, when will your lies cease,
Cus who you're trying to be, is how you dying with ease/
So I'ma keep with the reaping, try manning up,
"So many people are sleeping while standing up"/

(Chorus)

(V3. Burt)
Laymen get laid off as Rap debts get paid off
You stepped to a sheet that you shoulda fucking stayed off
Gendarmes alarmed but they never called the raid off
We Fonzi this Ponzi like dos Bernie Madoff
You front, cunt, to be blunt yer nap plans are played out
Roll this joint here and your up til the fade out
Nose out of joint cuz my buck took yer date out
Know we on point since we shook all the shade out
The Do Not Disturb sign's a joke to the jaded
We made all the bribes and your room just got maided
Cuts and the jibes from the nuts that we hated
Got revenged in time as we climb they got decimated
Butts planted, chump stump creation
Crumb bums get woke by the smoke inhalation
Croaking they chokin like froggy on vacation in a
Smog destination, wake up groggy nation....

(Chorus)

(V4. Fred)
Deaf to music, and your blind to the movies,
Ears are plugged with potatoes, eyes encrusted with googies/
RKO's outta nowhere is how we body vipers,
Sleeper hold then shave your hair like Rowdy Roddy Piper/
This ain't "They Live" we give instructional classes,
You couldn't see the proof or truth if given special glasses/
So awaken to the real world norm today,
Follow and consume and conform, OBEY/
That's the path that you keep stalking,
Flocking to the cheap talking,
While I keep gawking at the fleet of sheep sleep walking/
Catch more Zzzzzzz's than some napping teens,
Still attached to the bloodsucking crabs and flees/
And the leeches and the teets from which you haven't been weened,
A catastrophe Queen on the blasphemy scene/
Heed not this word of mine because you slept,
"The donot disturb sign is in effect"/

(Chorus)
Track Name: Sunny Listin'
Sunny Listin'

(Chorus 1)
Beat? (sick) Mic (check)
Feet (lopped) chopped (neck)
Busters (busted) pens in the fist an
Fred and Burt with the dirt, Sunny Listin’
Baggie (packed) Papers (stacked)
Zippo (zipped up) vapours (sacked)
Suckers (plenty) 420 on the wrist an’
Six shots of Dristan, & drop the Sunny Listin’

(V1.Burt)
Peeps gettin’ antsy hopin for a PROP
Mopin cuz they can’t see the shit don’t STOP
Name one name, yer a hip hop SNITCH
List every friend, every neighbour, every BITCH
There’s no end to namin’, the Devins, the Damons
The Kevins, the Stevens and even the Raymonds
Folks lining up for the glad-hand GROVEL
Jokes, liner notes like a Tolstoy NOVEL
Bodee, J Marr, and Stew Gunn get it
L Wright and Matty K you fuckin bet it
Gergles Hips Dougy Doug Olde RYAN
Bradless, I guess, lest those suckers be CRYIN
Matt Fucking Daley on the Daley L Gibb
AC and Ian, Leigh just for bein
Frances and Jenny and my main man Lenny
And you, motherfucker, cuz I can’t name plenty....

(Chorus 2)
Beat? (sick) Mic (check)
Feet (lopped) chopped (neck)
Busters (busted) pens in the fist an
Fred and Burt with the dirt, Sunny Listin’
Baggie (packed) Papers (stacked)
Zippo (zipped up) vapours (sacked)
Suckers (plenty) 420 on the wrist an’
Popping 12 hits & drop the Sunny Listin’

(V2.Fred)
So where do I start? All my boys got heart,
If you stayed in my life, well then you played a big part/
If your name gets missed then don't take it as a diss,
Drop it Sunny Listin', 'cos we don't make lists/
First hit the scene with my man Craig Beattie,
& insane Duane Linford was always seedy/
The Frosts The Scades The Smiths & Red Bush,
The fucking Hutton brothers, & my main wig John McCusih/
Sanjai, Joanne Reay, Joel Gregorio,
Nothing else rhymes so I'll go with Salvitorio/
Jazzy Jeff, Davy D, Eggman, & Pat Yang,
Steve & James Elull with the BBS slang/
Scott Vansegellen & Ryan Savoy,
You're out your fucking mind thinking I forgot my boy,
Or should I say my best man Jerry Preston,
& Jay Poole & Mike C although their bones be resting/

(Chorus1)

(V3.Burt)
Paul’s been down since the get-go RIGHT
Keith’s been down since the get-go RIGHT
Big Lies down from the start of the story
Phantom Ping OC the other Cory
Lybot Stewart R John and MITCH
Heather Jimmy Jocelyn and Friendly RICH
Scott with the first beats, fast beats w Adam
Beazley and GC, this shit is not easy
Drywall Derek, Erik and Mike V
Koko and Rhyno and every fucking wino
Who came to a show and they show like a scene should
Even got love for a geek like GREENWOOD!
(Steph and) Justins, Pauly and Money
Both D and G, Bruck, Kari and Dunny
Kevlar and Virgil, Beef Chiefs and Rotten
And I’m out, I timed out, much love to those forgotten....

(Chorus2)

(V4. Fred)
& up next we got Chunk, Pugs, Dove & Noel-E-Noel-E,
Gooch, Jimmy James, Fantini & Spicoli/
Foxy Bano, Polonatio, Mike Myer & Steve Waller,
Ricky Hummel & Ice Man, triple O.G. ballers/
One Gerg Noswad, Rob & Frank the Phenom,
The Rumblefish Posse, Carlito & Tank D & Dom/
Everyone I met up in Orangeville & G-Town
Barry Chronic Jr. 'cos he always puts his green down/
Knuckles & The Chutzpahs, Scully & Dwyer
The Foss bros & Viciousphere because nobody gets higher/
J.C. Pennyweiner, Stacey my lady,
I'd be a chump if I didn't mention my little seed Baby Gabey/
& my family, all the dudes in Curious Mold,
& every friend I've ever made since I was seven minutes old/
I can't forget Jobber Coish & the Demon Barf Crew,
I still haven't said your name? Well then I'll blame it on Pooh/

(Chorus1)
Track Name: Potent As Dust
Potent As Dust

(Chorus) X2
Potent as dust I have you all stumbling (X3)
Smoke too much you space the fuck out like Flash Gordon

(V1. Burt)
Bass low face, no?
Shit done got melted erased by the space flow
Lace yo rhymes with the danger
Brace yo self for the stranger
Strange land I come from no time for crumb bums
Dumb dumbs catch a hook in their numnums
Watch you step my shits ripe with bear traps
Dare snatch a bap I boom you with the dirt naps
Mind yer shirt snaps I wreck chemises
Straight stabbing Caesars I deal deck diseases
Sick yer sneezes they thick shit yer wheezin
We's the breezes dick, all four seasons
You fall into winter we spring into summer
Allergic to street trash, nerd? That's a bummer
Roll up the lyrics and inhale the hype
We blow up up yer brains and yer lungs and the pipe, we....

(Chorus) X2

(V2. Fred)
Potent as dust we got you all stumbling,
Smoking or bumps I bet you fall tumbling/
Choking you chumps we fought & brawled rumbling,
SlowMo-ing punks you drop the ball fumbling/
Cus my zin makes time stand still
With my hand in your grill,
& my other on your will, get the grands, kill/
Iller to the seams, then a psycho team,
Who be steady ripping Ps dusted off with phencyclidine/
Never Vicodin, when I'm ripening my sick mind,
California sunshine, forgot about the strychnine/
Tightening my lockjaw, hit you like a red nose,
Pit bull gnawing bones and leave you in the dead zone/
Like Christopher Walken, I'm the mister that's stalking,
On your sister be clocking, pilfer rings and I'm hocking/
Joke with us your face gets chucked out on trash morning,
Smoke too much you space the fuck out like Flash Gordon/ we...

(Chorus) X4
Track Name: Emergency!
Emergency!

(V1. Fred)
What the fuck is going on in the world today?
Put on my slow gin cologne and burp Tanqueray/
Got caught in the rain, now I'm clean on the case,
So I hop in a mud puddle & rub some dirt on my face/
Time to set shit straight, lace up my kicks & deface,
Because the state of things today is just a fucking disgrace/
The back stabbing rat race is pacing at an alarming rate,
No brothers in arms, you march to harm them with your charming hate/
Helping out a fellow is outta fashion within though,
Comradery, integrity, is out the window/
The last crescendo, then that's the end bro,
Total game over like a crashed Nintendo/
Crafty prepense, & Master pretense,
Congress dispense expense & blast your defence/
Gas fueled Q', slather meat in gravy drips,
Fuck your 2 K 1 6, I'd rather be in 86'/
A letter to the editor will never fix the creditor,
We can't move forward on an earth full of apex predators/
Sedatives injecting kids, definitive,
Chemical warfare & preying on the innocents/
Militants to screw you, fists that don't use lube,
Youth quitting school to try and make loot on YouTube/
Illuminati scriptures, unbiblical rituals,
Sacrifice & snack on babies, hit you with visuals/
Presidential candidates, a mandate for mass hate,
A cheeto in a suit and dead dog wig will pass fate/
Ass rape your front door, wondering what you died for?
A commie first lady Russian mail order bride whore/
This whole planet is one big reality show,
You're doomed if you do, and you're damned if you don't/
You all live & die for currency, diverging with urgency,
Currently and furthering a state of emergency/

(V2. Burt)
Okay, peeps are gonna catch a hurtin’
Innocent folks six feet in the dirt’n
Time came that we tugged on the curtain
Oz was a charlatan now we certain
cancel the magic , call off the Merlins
S’ain’t about souls no more, it’s sterlins
Riddle-wrapped mysteries in enigmas
Stigmata ratta-tattered by the stigmas, WORD
Dorito Man gonna make it hard, no shit-ah
But you cant win the war on the Twitter
Keyboard warrior never seen a riot
Shit’s fucked up, maybe you should try it
State of Emerg, burn down for rebirth
Rank and file or take a nap under the earth
These fuckers never figger on a hero
Thumb twiddle fiddle, modern modem Nero
Look to the fringers stave off the bingers
Lop off the fingers French nails and ringers
Let pain linger lest they forget
Crown the new kingers down with regret
Meet the new vets same as the ole vets
Flinging zingers singing from the whole chest
Some guessed it wise ones they predict
Listen up, get down with the edict
Eat the rich fuck the bank
Teach a snitch not to shuck his rank
Leap the ditch in a fucking tank
Taxing priests and they shabby ranks (Shabba!)
Code red lights flashin store window-smashing
Poor trying to cash in more is out of fashion
Greedy whores catch a lashin
Raise a glass to the system crashin
Track Name: We Steep
We Steep

(V1. Burt)
Place an order for the yellow tape
Scene of the crime time, Fellow by the nape
Following the gape, Following the stares
Mellow melon farmers left raped unawares
Papes on the tables bags on the scales
Tapes of the fabled tracks of the tales
Males of the ST jails getting empty
Bails getting paid with the stacks mom sent me
Necks gettin sore from the nod in perpetuity
Checks gettin more like an insult gratuity
Fluid-y, flowing like the Ganges
Fake fuck Gs getting stomped by the fan Gs
Damage inc swinging undiluted
Can of stink we bring it we've polluted
Ears for years the tears of peeps caught sleeping
Jarred ya we keep em for the teas we steeping

(Chorus)
Pekoes and herbals
Deep flows and verbals
Clothes lining Nermals
Peep shows and gerbils
Door crashing formals
Floor mashing normals
Sweet like the brandies
Steep like the Andes

(V2. Fred)
Candy ass punk pussy bitches never match wits,
Pass the mic I eat ya like a pack of sour patch kids/
Catch me online I'm never running and gunning,
Standing firm in my ground and let the noobies be coming & coming/
Drop ya with the swiftness, romper stomping feet drag,
Rock ya with the quickness but stop and drop the tea bag/
Hit ya like Tetley, and the venom be deadly,
Lizard, scorpion, snake, toad, & centipede ready/
Steady dropping bums like Wizzy who be stumbling & pissy,
Slipped a Mickey of Viper, and now you're bubbling and fizzy/
Drippy dropping down the stairs while I'm high on the better Thai,
I said it once before kid I'm flyer than Tenafly/
Hell-a-fied madness, I kill it spitting rad gas,
Ask any kids they'll say "legitness and bad ass"/
Wrap around your head how many raps are in my head,
Instead of flexing you just settle for tea and crumpets in bed/
(Because we steep)

(Chorus)

(V3. Burt)
Tweet goes the steam in the kettle
Suckers try to mettle
Suckers get messed by the metal
Fuckers get fragged by the mental
Knuckleheads catch a snaggle tooth in the dental
Mento-mouth merrymakers mangled
Dung tongue rung raiders straight get strangled
White to the roots no angles
Goofers looking for the roof get tangled
Wrapped like a turban boss like a bourbon
Toss like a salad street like I'm urban
Keep getting verbs and nouns around the sermon
Vermin squirm from the clowns we curbin
12 step suckers get left with a half doz
Motherfuckin club filling to the rafters
Team deep like a handful of Naftas
Tea gettin steep like crafters

(Chorus)

(V4. Fred)
And keeping with tradition is the mission of my statement,
Street Trash stay bent, smash you in the pavement/
Power bombs & choke slams, doper than the dope man
Potent like the coke and my spoken made your hope vanish/
Manage to vanquish any damage no anguish,
Still you challenge my manly-ness get branded by language/
That I spit automatically, get hit with the facts to see,
You sit another casualty of human catastrophe/
Instead you stay in bed & take your tea earl grey,
You step or sway to this head, I'll take you to your grave/
Save your blowing for the whistle when you're boiling your kettle,
Cus if I'm knowing your gristle that means I'm broiling on metal/
I got the grill fired up and now it's time to get roasted,
For all the shit that you boasted, I rip your whip and I ghost it/
Like a coaster full of entity's at 80 degrees fam,
We keep it steady flowing, Fred & Burt & we steep, man/

(Chorus)

(V5. Fred & Burt)
Back in the old days heads got boiled
Heads dropped oil on the heads of the woild
Plans got foiled pants got soiled
Fields got tilled or the fools got broiled
Fuckers got roasted suckers got toasted
Bitches got burned for the witch shit they boasted
Now you lost it if yer thinking that we let
Suckers step to the mic during the set
Regrets are free lest you forget
Suckers soaked by the spitz getting more wet
Cuz the new school fools need a lesson
Talking shit how they smithin and they wesson
But myth-ing is my thing tests got you guessin
Desk wrecked gitch speckled from the messin
Eyes poked on the yokels caught peepin
Catch a cauldron hang mang we steeping...