You'll get eviscerated and emasculated when you step to me to battle with the shit you masticated from the radio, as a rapper you have masqueraded for too long, my new song, is deadly like the Bubon- ic plague; it's called Full Blown AIDS I'm swinging for the jugular with microphone blades you can parry and feint, the libertarian saint but I'm a slice you from your red neck to your Aryan taint humanitarian ain't, how historians will describe the way I sliced you with Praetorian skill you're like Midori in ill, Jill Kelly productions you take it up the ass and on my dick, there's suction the rhyme construction's, your mom's seduction I grab the mic and need no fucking introduction so give it up; you're just a wack failure I'm unfuckwitable like the pussy of the Black Dahlia I'm on some full blown AIDS shit you can't fade this cuz it's way sick you bitch-made trick I fades 'em all like an indiscriminate stylist don't give a fuck like an end-is-imminent nihilist you wanna step to me, then you better be of the purest rhyme pedigree, if not then you should let it be I set it free, what? my style off the dome like my name was Ed Truck when I'm on the microphone always coming with the hard shit, I think I need Exlax got more rhymes than Sue Johanson has sex facts so testing me is clearly a mistake, I'm the flyest the only way I'll fail is if the test is culturally biased I'm the illest you ever saw your whole style's a scam like subsidized ethanol I'm f'in all, rappers coming at me with my animal dong you're taking two in the ass like Annabel Chong call me in the morning consider this a warning I'm on some full-blown AIDS shit I'm out to get paid, bitch! The way I'm coming, yo, this has to be felt I keeps it tight like a chastity belt your shit is weak, son, I think that you better rest I'm fucking all these wack kids like I'm a pederast forget a vest, cuz I'm aiming for your head piece piss on the grave of your dead niece and said PEACE! I holds it down like date rape since 1994, I've been making these great tapes but now it's 09 and your boy's out to make papes rappers are in danger like sub-Saharan great apes! and I'm the big game hunter you don't exist to me, like a hall-of-fame punter you just made the same blunder I'm Zeus on the mic the way my lyrics rain thunder! you just got bested you better get the AIDS test, kid I'm on some full-blown AIDS shit 2009 is the year I get made rich!

Back from the dead like Lazarus here to state the obvious like your daughter's androgynous tits and clitorises are erogenous and bitches and hoes think my lyrics are misogynist you know that your momma likes homogeneous pasteurized man milk, yeah, she swallows it not cosmopolitan, I'm more of a paleo you're gay like that faggot Neal Daley, ho! I just came to murder the party if you're ever in jail, say wordup to Marty Whitehead ... you know he paved the way for bouncing checks, he taught Dave LaMay but efemjay's here to save the day I'll break 'em all out of jail and then we'll sail away-ay-ay and keep on sailing I'm insane in the brain like Matt Ailing I rock hardcore like Jasmine Byrne when will these motherfucking has-beens learn that I'm anti-war like Murray Rothbard initiating force is weak and you're not hard fuck Al Gore, and his bitch wife Tipper a pair of hypocrites more evil than the Gipper your mom's sore, cuz I hit her in the shitter YES! and it counts, like Marv Albert I bit her and now I need a vaccine, homes cuz your momma was diseased like Jaxeen Jones and I ain't going out like Tommy Morrison so I'm never gonna have your mommy on all fours again and now she's blowing up my Nextel but the goiter that she gave me made my fucking neck swell Casual Male XL, you can see me there buyin' shirts but when I'm on the mic you like I'll iller than Kurutz I rock hardcore like Bob Store breaking it down on the Artesian Wells dance floor hardcore, anti-war initiating force is wack, and that's a fact I rock hardcore, fuck Al Gore global warming's fake, to prop up the state hardcore, your mom's sore from taking cocks up the ass, cuz she's an anal ho.. ho, ho, ho... we like to party ho.. ho, ho, ho... we don't bother nobody, now ho.. ho, ho, ho... just a man that's on the mic ho.. ho, ho, ho... and when I rock up on the mic, I talk about dykes Like Sheryl Swoopes my shit's retarded, like Jamie Jerrel's poops or Michael Ruoff's fecal matter smeared on the wall I never knew he was retarded, he appeared on the ball, y'all like a chick riding Justin Pigg my knife's at the state's throat, thrust and dig the simple fact of the matter's I don't like Nazis why you think I busted my hand on Mike Votzke? I'm so anti-collectivist anti-fiat money, anti-protectionist anti-gun control, anti-war and anti-your momma who's an anti-anti-whore you know I rock hardcore peace to Larry Viles and the real Bob Storer peace to Prime Time and his little brother Shawn and my brother from another motherfucking mother, Preach On! I rock hardcore like Stranglemania your sister has dangling labia! anti-war like Jesus Christ and when I'm on the mic you know my steez is nice fuck Al Gore and his Nobel prize an Inconvenient Truth's full of inconvenient lies your mom's sore from the nipple clamps and fucking Mr. Mallar on the criple ramps it's not ergonomical you battle me, you're a nerd, it's comical you might have had a chance back in 1997 but efemjay is better than ever after eleven long years; I know it's been a while, duke since high school, my rhymes have gotten fat, like Kyle Luke my style's sick enough to make a pedophile puke word to Terry Hubbard and his butt-buddy lover, Matt McCance! I rock hardcore like Bob Store breaking it down on the Artesian Wells dance floor hardcore, anti-war initiating force is wack, and that's a fact I rock hardcore, fuck Al Gore global warming's fake, to prop up the state hardcore, your mom's sore from taking cocks up the ass, cuz she's an anal ho.. ho, ho, ho... we like to party ho.. ho, ho, ho... we don't bother nobody, now ho.. ho, ho, ho... just a man that's on the mic ho.. ho, ho, ho... and when I rock up on the mic, I talk about dykes

It's kind of awkward and I really shouldn't say shit but my homie Booger's on some motherfucking gay shit and I need to find a way to let him know we still cool he's just overly polite to try to push in a guy's stool so what if balls make him drool and it hurts every time he drops the kids off at the pool it's his prerogative to practice homosexuality but taking cocks up the ass could end in his fatality and I don't want to see my homie's casualty so if you're into fucking dudes, you can't do it casually you gotta use a jimmy hat and make that shit a habit but I just can't believe that my lil homie is a fagot word to Richard Simmons he likes big butts, but he don't like women's in male fecal matter's where his sperm be swimmin' but he can't find employment so his only job is rimmin' 1,2,3 my little homie named Booger D's an F.A.G. and I think you better see that he likes to be topped and he can't be stopped when he's got a cock in his mouth til the last drop and Booger, Booger D he's an F.A.G. uh Booger D, Booger D, what the fuck do you see? Booger, Booger D, do you have HIV? B-B-B-Booger, Booger D, homosexuality My homie's gay but I wanna let him know that I'm down with the motherfucking ho to the mo does he like it up the ass real fast or slow-mo does he shave his nutsac or let his pubes go fro what position does he play, does he catch or pitch can he suck the fucking chrome off a trailer hitch or does he give lame head like Terri Schiavo would does he fuck wit the boys from the rival hood or does he keep on the down low, and play it straight is it a personal choice, or would he say its fate for him to want to suck the kernels out a fellow's corn hole and up the ass take a motherfucking telephone pole I wanna tell the homo that I'm cool with his lifestyle I'd even let him babysit me and wife's child since we got a girl, we know he wouldn't molest her but when we got her home, we'd HIV test her 1,2,3 my little homie named Booger D's an F.A.G. and I think you better see that he likes to be topped and he can't be stopped when he's got a cock in his mouth til the last drop and Booger, Booger D he's an F.A.G. uh Booger D, Booger D, what the fuck do you see? Booger, Booger D, do you have HIV? B-B-B-Booger, Booger D, homosexuality My homie's as gay as the day is long but who the fuck am I, to say its wrong cuz I got my own vices, so who am I to judge I knew he liked the Green Bay Packers, now I know he packs fudge we watched Superbowl together now I know he likes his pooper full, whatever I didn't know then, why should I be caring now Booger D plants his seed on barren ground it's not apparent how, I should tell him I know and he's still my hom-ie, even though he's ho-mo even though he's into fistin' we still have a coalition when he said he liked shrimpin' I thought he meant fishin' when he said he liked snowballs, it should have been a clue but when he said he liked sucking shitty dicks, I knew that of gayness, Booger D was the epitome now I'm feeling jealous cuz in all the years he never hit on me 1,2,3 my little homie named Booger D's an F.A.G. and I think you better see that he likes to be topped and he can't be stopped when he's got a cock in his mouth til the last drop and Booger, Booger D he's an F.A.G. uh Booger D, Booger D, what the fuck do you see? Booger, Booger D, do you have HIV? B-B-B-Booger, Booger D, homosexuality

[efemjay] Lyrics, somebody want lyrics? I got a myriad my flow is nasty like a bull-dyke's period it's straight up eerie, kid; the way I rip and flip a verse sicker than your grandma dressed up as a stripper nurse you can ask my man the Chancellor, he's happy to confirm it I'm never going out, I'm in the house like a hermit take your rhyme book and burn it, kid, you'll never build a legacy with lyrics ill-concieved like an anal-sex pregnacy [The Chancellor] I took a small hiatus, I got a little famous I went thru different stages but still I am the greatest on the M.I.C., you know me, I'm Chance Nasty came back to rap just to tickle your fancy you can't see, Chance Nasty and Flashmaster encroaching on your airwaves like a natural disaster you rat bastard, we're back on the scene gotcha spazzin out like Ralphie crackin' out for Ovaltine [efemjay] Suckaz step to me to try to get some fame I kick ass and take names, knock pussy walls out the frames I don't play games with the dames, I will destroy a bitch out to get that money like Governor Blagojevich you know I keep it gutter, can I please have my ghetto pass I used to watch The Sopranos just to see Meadow's ass I rock a metal flask full of vodka when I'm parasailin I'm stupid off the dome like my name was Sarah Palin [The Chancellor] It's indifferent to me, if I see any currency me? I'm puffin trees and you haters is irkin' me shirkin' me off as that next cracker rapper keep talkin' that shit, i'll make your head-piece splatter I'm fresh dressed, my style is so impeccable and 'round here, Tims and bling are unacceptable you got no style, you don't know how to jet set I'm rockin throwbacks for teams that don't exist yet (sampled hook) [efemjay] I'm blowing up the spot like a motherfucking meth head I'm the illest rapper since Eazy-E was on his death bed I'm tested, never fold under pressure my rhymes are off the hook like the clothes on your dresser with the flows that you treasure and the beats that knock I got more styles that wrinkles on Milton Berle's cock one ill ass line, yo, for each measure I get the dough, then I'm out like Heath Ledger [The Chancellor] Ay yo we're takin' it back, to the roots of the game where lyricism outweighs riches and fame y'all sound the same, all y'all lame ass copycatters how the fuck you got the nerve to call yourselves rappers we're grandmasters, and we're ashamed of what we seein' I could freestyle better than your written shit when I'm peein emceein's in my blood, i'ma rhyme till I die so if you're diggin' what im spittin throw your hands up high [efemjay] You wanna battle me but your shit is pre-written pathetic, like a flea-bitten wee kitten you's a pussy motherfucker, you probably pee sittin' you just can't fuck with the shit I be spittin' off the dome or with the pen, yo, I'm nice with my mine turn lyrics into water like Christ with wine she got a nice behind, but she wack from the front so I hit it from the back, put my sac in her cunt [The Chancellor] It's elementary, we be, the epitome in the hip hop industry we goin' down in history is that a mystery? naw, it's actual facts son we came up in the sticks, half hour south of Jackson you wack, son, you cant even hold a candle this Rollin Tribe shit is just too much for you to handle it's just a sample, of some next level shit like Smooth B said, we come back with more hits

Yes, yes, yall; you dont stop to the beat, yall; rock on yes, yes yall; you dont quit ya keep Dewey Knit and Dewey Knit and Dewey Knitwell My rhymes are criminal like Brandon Bell let the librarian, Miss Landon smell my finger, after sticking it your sister smacked her on the ass and gave her a titty twister thats how Deanie Rollz I spit on her back like she was Liz Noles and I was Buddy Pierson, word to Elle McPherson but I like em thicker with tattoos and piercins for wrecking shop in the anus I like big booty hoes like [edited] with big titties too like [edited] not anorexic hoes, in fact, I find em heinous I likes Willendorfic back that ass up, we're gonna need a fork lift this ain't for the thin Pilates girls but the big body girls, they're the real hotty girls Yes, yes, yall; you dont stop to the beat, yall; rock on yes, yes yall; you dont quit ya keep Dewey Knit and Dewey Knit and Dewey Knitwell I keep it old school like the upper elementary Chuck Sciarraba's rotting in a Florida penitentiary he shot that fucking cabbie but it shoulda been a copper my rhymes are mad fat like that Blues Traveler John Popper before his gastric bypass never will I ever let a man lick my ass but I aint homophobic, word to Matt Magnus he shot Phil McClain when discovered his fagness he was on some GodHatesFags shit but fags hate god, and Im more on that tip your momma broke my heart, it was truly tragic but she had to leave me cuz she loved the black dick Word to Heather Melling big booty hoes get my nethers swelling I had to leave Rollin for another dwelling but I cant leave the mic, its just too compelling Yes, yes, yall; you dont stop to the beat, yall; rock on yes, yes yall; you dont quit ya keep Dewey Knit and Dewey Knit and Dewey Knitwell My rhymes are criminal like... Dick Cheney Ill shoot you in the face like... Dick Cheney Im breaking every law like... Dick Cheney and I eat more pussy than his daughter Mary Cheney word to Val Charles, in a pinch, take a rubber and stuff it with a sock, and stick it to your lover if she dont know the diff, then its your siren song cuz your dicks mad limp like Byron Long fuck Bush, fuck Clinton, fuck Bush, fuck Reagan when Im on the mic, I rock hard like Pagan you rock about as hard as Dana Burds band and your only fucking fans are a fagot nerd clan me, I got fans from around the globe but my dream is to make Lisa Loeb disrobe and submit to a probe from the magic stick but nah, I heard she sucked on Magics dick Yes, yes, yall; you dont stop to the beat, yall; rock on yes, yes yall; you dont quit ya keep Dewey Knit and Dewey Knit and Dewey Knitwell Dewey Knit and Dewey Knit and Dewey Knitwell Dewey Knitwell; let me rock it acapell It's Flashmaster J, aka Dewey Knitwell when I fuck your momma, well you know she will not shit well for at least a week, they call me Bad Santa dont support the Nazis so I don't drink Fanta my word is law people think that I'm an asshole like Curtis Shaw and maybe I am, and I just don't care because I do more coke than Sammy Square Psych! I never fuck with the yayo only white stuff I ever touched was the mayo look at my physique it shows Casual Male XLs where I buy my clothes I can barely touch my toes the circumference of my waste only grows and grows I wish that I was fat like Byers instead of fat like I am, cuz I can't leave the Breyers

When I rock the mic, rock, rock, the mic I really rock the mic, rock, rock, the mic stick my cock to dykes, cock, cock to dykes when I rock the mic, rock, rock, the mic Flashmaster, beer-bottle smasher over the motherfucking head of a fool who thinks he has to step to me, to try to get some fame I'll burn down that faggot's house like Alan Bame the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire we don't need no water let that motherfucker burn or let your momma jack me off, I'll put it out with my sperm the kid ain't yours, like Howard K. Stern it's mine; made with my pickle brine ay yo, I get retarded like Mike Sines when I rock, rock hard, never ever rock limp son I get retarded, like Brock Simp-son When I rock the mic, rock, rock, the mic I really rock the mic, rock, rock, the mic I stick my cock to dykes, cock, cock to dykes when I rock the mic, rock, rock, the mic I'm like Nolan Fain, absconding on parole fuck with me you'll get a limp arm like Bob Dole like Nat King Cole, my rhymes are unforgettable tried to fuck your grandma but her pussy wasn't wettable was it edible? I didn't try it but the vulva had more hair than the heads of Quiet Riot word to Remy Wyant, yo, let's race some slot cars party like a rock star; with my cock hard fucked your momma in a cop car, that bitch can stretch her twat far dick was in her booty, in her pussy was a poplar she ate my ass like a Pop-Tart, then she made my cock fart I made a male queef, now I have stale briefs but your momma does my laundry, she can make it fresh peace to Ron Paul, and fuck the IRS When I rock the mic, rock, rock, the mic I really rock the mic, rock, rock, the mic I stick my cock to dykes, cock, cock to dykes when I rock the mic, rock, rock, the mic I don't spend all day, playing Halo 3 but am I weird cuz I wanna drink J-Lo's pee? I speak fluent Arabic and Farsi okay but am I weird cuz I jack it to Darci Bovee? I'm not a holocaust denier or a slavery apologist but I'd like to serve as Beyonce's proctologist you see me on Montel, I drop a bomb shell when I reveal my cock paralyzed Dawn Snell Even at the office I'm always drinking like Meredith bumping into walls, apologizing like Sarah Smith word to Pam Beasely my cock would fill her belly but I'd rather do it anally with Karen Fillipelli When I rock the mic, rock, rock, the mic I really rock the mic, rock, rock, the mic I stick my cock to dykes, cock, cock to dykes when I rock the mic, rock, rock, the mic I'm back, y'all; I'm back, y'all and you know I could never be wack, y'all I just won't quit, I just won't stop fuck Larry Richardson and every other cop

Fuck the police coming straight from the underground a young brotha got it bad cuz I fund the town with my tax dollars, I don't want to pay up when they go to fund the salary of Fat Man and Jacob fuck that shit, cuz I ain't the one for a punk motherfucker with a badge and a gun to be pullin over (why) when I ain't going fast traffic laws ain't nothing but a racket for cash they want money, and I can see 'em a mile away so when they push up, I just smile and say back up off me, you're fucking worthless you see my cock, you can protect and serve this cops are thugs of the state they say they give protection from the muggings and rapes but they spend most they time busting victimless crimes so when a cop pulls you over, yo, spit them this rhyme (it goes) Fuck a coppa; fuck, fuck a coppa fuck-fuck a coppa, fuck, fuck a coppa like Chuck Sciarraba, Chuck, Chuck Sciarraba I'll blast him! (Like he was a Taxi Driver) Fuck a coppa; fuck, fuck a coppa fuck-fuck a coppa, fuck, fuck a coppa like Chuck Sciarraba, Chuck, Chuck Sciarraba I'll blast him! (Like he was a Taxi Driver) Government employees are the scum of the earth and postal workers and teachers are some of the worst but at the bottom of the barrel is the stinking swine they once locked you up for drinking wine and now they'll lock you up for smoking a doobie if you don't go to school, they'll throw you in juvi if you don't wear a helmet, they'll stop your bike just think about it if you know a cop you like cuz they, all think that might makes right and live off your tax dollars like a parasite if there was a drop in crime there'd be no cause for them to stay employed, so these unjust laws are gonna stay on the books, it's fucking extortion I wish every cop's mom had an abortion and I'm not saying fetuses don't need protection but unborn cops are the fucking exception, yo! Fuck a coppa; fuck, fuck a coppa fuck-fuck a coppa, fuck, fuck a coppa like Chuck Sciarraba, Chuck, Chuck Sciarraba I'll blast him! (Like he was a Taxi Driver) Fuck a coppa; fuck, fuck a coppa fuck-fuck a coppa, fuck, fuck a coppa like Chuck Sciarraba, Chuck, Chuck Sciarraba I'll blast him! (Like he was a Taxi Driver) I don't need to be defended only thing I need is the Second Amendment always at my side is my bitch named Nina put her head in your mouth and say eat the food Tina can't you talk with a gun in your mouth that's what happens when come in my house cuz I'll defend my family with my one gun I'm not waiting forty minutes for 911 it's a joke, the state offers no defense to taxpayers, cops are just a burdensome expense Congress takes our money and you know they never spend it wise (why?) the government's criminal enterprise everything they do, they do it sloppily they want to take away our guns so they have a monopoly but if that cabbie had a gun instead of a cop he'd be alive and Sciarraba would be one dead whop, yo! Fuck a coppa; fuck, fuck a coppa fuck-fuck a coppa, fuck, fuck a coppa like Chuck Sciarraba, Chuck, Chuck Sciarraba I'll blast him! (Like he was a Taxi Driver) Fuck a coppa; fuck, fuck a coppa fuck-fuck a coppa, fuck, fuck a coppa like Chuck Sciarraba, Chuck, Chuck Sciarraba I'll blast him! (Like he was a Taxi Driver)

Times is hard, word is bond, that's my thesis I'd even sell out Mises for twenty-nine silver pieces they call me Jesus for the way I walk on water rhymin' but I'm sick of being broke like your daughter's hymen I'm out to get that Robert Kiyosaki dough enough to pay J-Lo to do a private home Bukake show I've had it up to hear with you dunderheads I wanna fly boat like the Wonder Pets I made a grip on some smart stock sales but blew it all on DVDs of Cum Fart Cocktails I know you're doing well cuz your girl's got a fat shitter I hit it from the back, her face was in the cat litter I'm not trying to covet my neighbor's ass but time is running out, I'm living each day like it's my last since the world is facing imminent death let's forget about our debts and go blow our stimulus checks And party like we just don't care throw our FRNs in the air all the dues act a fool, all the girls get skanky let's, spend that money like Ben Bernanke let's, spend that money like we got a printing press let's, spend that money like we're trying to impress yes, spend that money like we got a printing press 2 o'clock, last call, but we ain't finished yet, ho! I rock-well like Llewellyn back but I've been out for a long time like Ellen jellin like a felon getting raped with ample lube face it dude, my rhymes are on a whole other amplitude there's no doubt that I spit flames but fuck that, I wanna be rich like Rick James your wifey wants another kid just to get the tax credit she's into anal though so both of her cracks get it maybe I got low sperm count or maybe I'm fed up with life, totally burned out people haven't seen me saying, J have you lost weight? a couple ounces when your girl milked my prostate in humanity, I have lost faith these debts are crushing me, crippling like a crossface I'm feeling suicidal, just want to end it all but fuck it y'all, instead I think I'm just gonna go the mall And party like I just don't care and throw my FRNs in the air as I go deeper in debt, all the banksters thank me when I, spend my money like Ben Bernanke when I, spend my money like I got a printing press when I, spend my money I ain't trying to invest when I, spend my money like I got a printing press 9 o'clock, store's closed, but I ain't finished yet, ho! I used to clock major dough but this recession really fucked up my paper flow the Federal Reserve System made it so they print the money then they give it to their favorites, yo you can't make new wealth via money creation mo money, mo problems, and it's called inflation artificial interest rates redistribute wealth it's reverse socialism and a tax that's stealth but we're, all surprised when the price level doubles the Federal Reserve caused the Internet bubble the Federal Reserve caused the housing-market bubble we can blame the Fed for nearly all our motherfucking troubles but, still we steady going deeper in debt buying shit we don't need from people we ain't met getting caught in a net's all part of their plan we getting fucked in the ass with our heads in the sand So let's party like we just don't care and throw our FRNs in the air all the dues act a fool, all the girls get skanky let's, spend that money like Ben Bernanke let's, spend that money like we got a printing press let's, spend that money like we're trying to impress yes, spend that money like we got a printing press 2 o'clock, last call, but we ain't finished yet, ho!

(The Chancellor's lyrics in ALLCAPS) 6 in morning, police at my door i wonder what the fuck they want to bother me for cuz i keep my nose clean, even pay my taxes though I keep a dirty gat stashed under my mattress I hop out the bed throw on some drawers the pigs are now at both the front and back doors I hit the intercom and say what the dilly yo? "you're wanted for the murder of Matthew J. Paveglio" there must be some mistake but ain't no reasoning with motherfucking Jake so i smash the window jump from the second story I'm in my jockey shorts on the run like NORE I dip down on alley, and what the hell in a heap a trash an abandoned cell I duck behind a dumpster as the pigs roll past me pick up the cell and ring my man Chance Nasty IT'S 6:05, I'M BOUT TO ROLL INTO BED WHEN MY PHONE RINGs, Yo, Pav wound up dead He caught a slug to the head and they're saying that I did it can you come and pick me up? YO, YOU KNOW THAT I'M WID IT I'll never get acquitted cuz I lack the loot for a lawyer, so bring some fucking gats to shoot I'm in my birthday suit and your clothes won't fit so swing by K-Money's, scoop some of his shit but keep in on the low, we don't need more accomplaces DON'T WORRY, MOTHERFUCKER, YOU KNOW I'M ON TOP OF THIS BUT, YO, WHERE YOU AT?, I dipped into an alley behind Pirate's Cove don't motherfucking dilly dally I'LL BE THEIR PRONTO, MEET ME AT THE BANDSTAND BY THE TIME YOU GET THERE, I'LL HAVE AN ADVANCED PLAN CHANCE IS YOUR MAN, HE'LL GET US OUT OF THE SHIT Well get on that motherfucker like lickity split ROLLIN' TO THE SPOT, AND I HAD A FLASHBACK TWO DUDES BEEFIN' IN FRONT OF THIS HATCHBACK OUTSIDE ARTESIAN WELLS LAST NIGHT, fo' real? IT WAS MATT PAVEGLIO AND BRAD O'NEIL Did they come to blows? I DON'T RECALL I WAS DRUNK AS FUCK OFF A 40 OF 8-BALL Well let's find O'Neil, and check his alibi I'll kill that motherfucker if he caused my homie Pav to die WORD, you got the gats? TWO NINES AND A SHOTTY AND A CHAINSAW IN CASE WE NEED TO DICE UP A BODY Damn, this shit is real, did you get me some clothes A TRIPLE X TEE, AND 44 WAIST GERBAUGHS Well let's bounce to O'Neals and get some answers quick AIIGHT BUT FIRST LET ME KILL THIS CANCER STICK Word, and let me load up the 9 milli yo we're gonna find out who killed Matt Paveglio We get to O'Neil's and the place looks deserted he's probably on the run if he's the one that murdered the front door's locked, but the door to the garage is unlocked, I kick the fucker open with my gun cocked AY YO, THAT'S THE HATCH BACK I SAW LAST NIGHT AND HANGING OUT THE DOOR, WHAT A BRUTAL SIGHT Brains on the floor like a pile of spaghetti! HIS DOME LOBBED IN HALF, THERE'S AN OLD SCHOOL MACHETI STICKING OUT HIS BACK, I think I'm gonna yak I turned a blew chunks on a hemp hackey sack and Brad don't hack, NO, BUT THAT ALBINO DID PAT REYNOLDS IS THE ONE WHO LOBBED OFF BRAD'S LID Was he beefing with Pav? TRUE INDEED PAV STIFFED HIM ON A HALF POUND OF HYDRO WEED And was he also feuding with O'Neil over marijuana? NO, BUT BRAD GOT HIGH AND MICROWAVED PAT'S IGUANA IT SEEMS PAT KILLED PAV THEN MERKED O'NEAL FOR THE FIRST JOB, HE USED FMJ'S STEEL BROKE INTO HIS PAD AND STASHED THE HEAT UNDER JAY'S BED THEN HIT UP O'NEIL'S HOUSE AND LOBBED OFF BRAD'S HEAD Now we're on our way to Lake Somerset IF WE SEE PATSY CLINE then you know he's gonna get wet by the nine, I don't mean to be illin' gee but someone's gotta act to put an end to this killin spree WE GET TO PAT'S CRIB, it's the same routine nobody's at home, it's like he blew the scene WE BUST IN THE DOOR, SEE A SILHOUETTE DANGLIN' FLIP ON THE SWITCH AND SEE PAT'S ASS STRANGLIN' Hangin' from a rafter like an inch from death I chop his ass down with his very last breath he says, "listen up, Jay, I truly ain't lyin' dog the fucking mass murderer's your boy name Brian Boggs I'm appalled, I take two steps back Chance pulls out a gat and cocks the hammer back YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT...IT WAS ME FROM THE START BUT YOU FUCKED IT ALL UP, YOU DIDN'T PLAY YOUR PART IF YOU HADN'T INSINUATED I WAS HOMOSEXUAL I WOULDN'T HAVE TRIED TO LOCK YOU UP IN THE CORRECTIONAL FACILITY, so now what, you're killin' me? I CAN'T HAVE NO LOOSE ENDS IF I PLAN TO STAY FREE PAT AND BRAD, THEY HAD IT COMING FROM THE GET BUT PAV WAS THE KEY TO GETTING THIS TRAP SET But why'd you kill Pav? SO NOBODY SUSPECTED ME OF THE MENAGERIE OF KILLS THAT I COLLECTED YOU COULDA SURVIVED AND JUST DONE A LIFE BID BUT NOW YOU KNOW TOO MUCH SO ITS LIGHTS OUT KID Not so fast, I pull's a 9 from behind with a blast, pull our triggers both at the same time