Verbal Experiments Songtext
von Lootpack

From the dungeons of darkness
Comes God′s Gift to hip-hop
Representing with the LP
One time

We hit 'em hard and fast in a straight line
Concentrating all firepower to their blindside at sunrise
Operation sunray, UV radiation
Pierced in outer barriers and continue penetration
The central point crushing their nucleus

Rushing your central brain command
Planting a virus that expands
Through your whole nervous system shutting down all communications
Through your bodily functions handicapping your defenses
Swiftly attack through your unit neutralizing MC′s
By ripping them apart before they even know what hit 'em
Style bliss


Jack get pissed off
Wack MC's step up and get lost
The rhythmic boss, Jack spit rhymes through my teeth like floss
I bust with that motivation to uplift MC′s with
High above control the stratus clouds, my man God′s Gift
Come down, assist us, wack MC's must be reminded
Get a Lootpack tape, rewind it

Those closed-minded to the abstract we kick
We rock all places
I found out MC′s aren't human ′cause they got two faces

They be chillin', willin′, always time killin'
Wack rumor spillin' while Jack be still in charge
Askin′ me if I smoke chronic, niggas, it′s ironic
I'm Wildchild, eighty percent human, twenty percent bionic
My main occupation is step up and rock the nation
Focus up upon my jam and blow up just like inflation
So, if you ain′t down, don't front, worry about your health
Worry about your wack crew and your wack ass self

Ayo, here comes the master don, here to renovate
My style hit you like marble weight, so pass the dinner plate
But pass up the swine like running your rhyme blind
Madlib done told you time and time again
Found a mental maze, fast to plaster your instrumental
With lyrical disaster
Until you′re screamin', "Who′s the master?"
I flip it up, rip it up to raw addict


Crave diggin' for the static when I'm at Beat Shop
Impulse down to Prestige and Black Jazz
21St Century, angel got mass
Wreckin′ labels of the old, I′ll loop 'em, take ′em out

I keep it secret when a nigga try to peep shit
My beat hit like a Roy Jones Jr. skit
Your girl's starin′ so now you wanna flip

I rip it down to the loot while you yell, "Peace"
While I pull out my piece, yell, "Peace"
But I'll leave you in pieces but at least you escaped this beast
Smokin′ on a kushen leaf when you try to bring grief

Now something's shakin' in the palace
Can′t you feel the Santa Ana′s switchin'
Currents and building velocity?
It gots to be, God′s Gift and Lootpack
Mentally superior master race of lyricists

Conducting verbal experiments
With open and imaginative creativity

Fathering styles from infancy to be lyrically
Complete, grown, and fully developed adults

Trained and mastering total bliss coastal assaults
And so we launch all out war when we tour your area
First destroyin' your local underground spots
Rocked your major clubs then plugged into your theaters
Advancing as hip-hop′s vocabulary leaders
Hostile takeovers is our main focus
As the deadliest of CDP special attack forces
Basically MC's lack of vision is appalling
Third rate styles with the nerve to say they′re vocalists
Out of focus, often it's the people they run with

Coupled with their own wackness, they're futureless

Keep feedin′ you
Keep feedin′ you
Keep feedin' you
Keep feedin′ you
Keep feedin' you
Keep feedin′ you
Keep feedin' you