Monkey Shine - Pumpkinhead, The Plague

«Look, have any of you heard of The Army of the 12 Monkeys?

They, they paint this

They, stencil this on the sides of buildings everywhere

Have you seen this?»

«Mr.

Cole?»

«Have you seen this?»

«Why don’t you just take your time

And try to explain' this whole thing from the beginning.»

I’m tired of hearin' about your theoretical skills

Like underground was a miracle pill, like you lyrically ill

You could get offered a deal for three quarters a mill

And still suck like you underwater, breathin' through gills

You enter every battle tryna get a few kills

Get a few thrills and can’t write a song that’ll sell a few mills

You could join Cypress Hill and never «B-Real.»

Better to chill

The Plague spreadin' will increase your medical bills

You worthless (hey).

We above the clouds and beneath the surface

Any state, city, borough, town where CD’s get purchased

Even if we re-word this, these words’ll leave you nervous

Don’t ask, don’t tell, faggot, or you’ll be asked to leave the service

It’s The Plague man, beatin' us is dead like a graveyard

Don’t get your head chopped off like «Braveheart»

The 12 Monkey Army, move like a bunch of zombies on Harleys

We the Angels of apocalypse, not Charlie’s

I’m the type to beat down a car thief

With my son’s car seat, and stop his heartbeat (b-boom, b-boom)

Y’all don’t want beef—y'all all weak.

We twelve deep

Night of the creeps, we patrol your streets

Don’t make me blam your team up—you ain’t tough!

You a Warrior Princess like Xena with C-cups

R&B diva on this beat—I bat clean up

And got black kids jumpin' like the cast of «Sarafina!»

12 Monkeys is the clique, biohazard’s the symbol

Y’all fools ain’t nimble, your rhymes is simple

Don’t Erick Sermon your career, it’s flyin' out the window

How many ways to end you, offend you?

Quadruple, six million, reptilian

Cold-blooded chameleons hangin' from the ceilin'

I paralyze myself, just to kill you with no feelin'

Eel skin scaly, move like Hailey’s Comet

Through the projects, flying objects

In a cockpit with Davy Crockett rockets

Cock and bust it, double-barrel musket

That could cut down a grizzly to the size of a Teddy Ruxpin

Uhh, Blitz, yo

Lightin' in, I strike in the wind, I strike and I win

A mic and some Henn' and I’ll strike on a whim

Ya hype man hyper' than you and I’m hyper' than him

Brooklyn belongs to us, I got a right to defend

I’m terrific with the freestyle in spite of the pen

You hear it freestyled, go home, and write it again

That’s when I go right past the writin' and go right to your chin

Nose, eyes, swell up, develop, bruising and tightening skin

You might be a Mighty Mouse but fightin' mightier men

We ride in custom choppers with twins, you bikin' on Schwinns

We got custom twin choppers that could chop off your limbs

This the beginnin' for us, for you a frightenin' end

Plizzle!

If the beat’s perfection, I’m speech injectin'

With inflection to make men reach erection

We’re detecting all wannabes, haters, and yes-men

Spread quick, dead shit, kill 'em off from infection

It’s not just an expression sayin' we’re Lethal Weapons

Plus there’s still Pack, Tone, Stan, Seed, and Session

Give your man drugs, get cops to arrest him

With Gang green boys in blue is your only protection, c’mon

Watch out now!

It’s so tragic how I add another cadaver quick

You’d think I’m on some magic abracadabra shit

Half of you scatter, half of you rappers attract to it

Like mag-a-nets.

Don’t have the strength to smash my elaborate lab

Within my labyrinth—The Plague!

Collaborative narratives assassinate you characters

Even the baddest kids disparage when I carry 'em

Like Passion of Nazareth, it’s so embarrassin'

So amateur, low caliber, no stamina

Too often awful off and on camera

Before my primates get irate

You better peel ‘cause we hungry like seven plus five apes

«Y'all don’t want beef, we twelve deep, y’all all weak» — Pumpkinhead

«The 12 Monkey Army» — Pumpkinhead

«Assassinate you characters» — Wild Child

«The Plague spreadin' will increase your medical bills, you worthless» — GMS

«Kill 'em off from infection» — Kameel-Yen

«And fallin' victim to The Plague» — Wyclef Jean

«Brooklyn belongs to us, I got a right to defend» — Blitzkrieg

«12 Monkeys is the clique, biohazard’s the symbol» — Pumpkinhead

«just the beginnin' for us, for you a frightenin' end» — Blitzkrieg

Rosario Dawson, you know you’re my boo (my boo)

I saw «Alexander» and «Kids», I’m fallin' for youuuu

And I know tomorrow, you’ll still be the same

Cause you got some big ass jugs, girl don’t even change cause

Eeeee-veryyyyy day, I think of your boobs in my face

Put 'em on the glass and make 'em shake, with a smile

Take time to tell me (to tell me) you’ll really care

And we can sip this bottle, togetherrrrrr

We can drink this Henny (Henny) forever

Foreeeeeeeeeeeeverrrrr… touchin' your boobs