Blow Ya Head Off - Apathy, Marvalyss, Blacastan

If I had a dollar bill for every sucker that I killed

I’d be sitting on a mil blood and guts in my grill

Hot as hell, I wasn’t born with the ability to chill

I don’t care what people say, Bun B think I’m trill

Killmatic, spillin' acid out my mouth, I’m a dragon

I’m snatching all your gold, I’m Bilbo Baggins

(Is you the Hobbit, bitch?) I’m the king of the apocalypse

Conquerin' your planet while my posse push rocket ships

Motherfucker I’m from H-E-Double Hockey Sticks

Trainin' harder than the Russian in them Rocky flicks

Overload the computer, overflowin' the sewer

Overthrowin' the ruler, cut your fuckin'

Head off like Tortuga, I’m white as a Stormtrooper

IPhone porn shooter, dominating whore abuser

With power like the sun from 93 mil

This is how we kill from '93 til

Murder, murder everything, nobody’s standin'

I’m a black hole in your soul slowly expandin'

I’m the crop circle maker where the mothership’s landing

I’m a ghost who’s lampin' in an abandoned mansion

Watch the news while I drop these jewels

I got tubes in my veins full of rocket fuel

And for the flock who snooze, rock snot box of crews

I pop shots at cops and cover forensic clues

And blow your head off, just for asking

«Who's the one rapping?»

(POO POW)

Cock back the hammer

And blow your head off, just for asking

«Who's the one rapping?»

(POO POW)

Cock back the hammer

I know you artists is breathin' but I’m the illest alive

I’m J Dilla with bars, Gil Scott with the rhymes

Paint pictures on the paper, this inoculate mind

Slow down your train of thought, at the drop of a dime

This rhyme patterin', I’m staggerin' at top of the lines

Is parallel to the crosshairs on the top of the 9

I know you dyin' for a spot at the roster to shine

Congrats, they lookin' for the next vagina to sign

Been in the game for some time, paid the usual dues

I torch wedders, Bar Mitzvahs and funerals too

I’m underground, ain’t no other way of keepin' it true

And when death is the consolation, it’s a beautiful view

Enigmatic, I spark in the booth and split static

Get clipped from a pager with a twitch and drug habit

Buck 50 with the RZA, I ain’t talking bout the Abbot

From a block away, I can knock the hinges off your casket

It’s open door policy, modus operandi

My syllabus was scripted in the tombs on a land mine

These emcees don’t want me to rap

But say nothin', powder-puffs don’t want me to snap

The epicenter of atrocity, high velocity rocketry

Tommy John any jerk-off thinkin' he stoppin' me

The prophecy was properly pinned, you niggas scared of it

And gun’s in your mouth, like you talk arabic

And blow your head off, just for asking

«Who's the one rapping?»

(POO POW)

Cock back the hammer

And blow your head off, just for asking

«Who's the one rapping?»

(POO POW)

Cock back the hammer

I’m the shogun’s decapitator, detonator, activator

Blaca-stanley Kubrick, outstanding imaginator

(6 minutes, Blacastan, you’re on)

I crack your skull open, and serve your brain like flan

Who shot ya?

Bullets blow the fuse out your chakras

Lights out, still tryin' to rhyme when the mic’s out

Chase you through the woods like Blair Witch

Grab you by the hair bitch, then burn pentagrams on your queer tits

Snatch your ghost right outta your torso

Who da best?

(Prime Minister Blac) Niggas I thought so

My waves stay spinnin' like the rims at a car show

The golden child lampin' in a temple in Tibet

I’m Eddie Murphy spittin' game at a dragon silhouette

I douse you, then burn your eyelids with cigarettes

Like Colossus, my fists smash the globe like a comet

Islamic, I wrote this with the passion of Muhammed

And blow your head off, just for asking

«Who's the one rapping?»

(POO POW)

Cock back the hammer

And blow your head off, just for asking

«Who's the one rapping?»

(POO POW)

Cock back the hammer