Whoa

Listen to the spoken word version on Bandcamp

This shit'll make you drop your cocks and glocks and get on your fox socks
You're gonna walk to stalk me because of the way that I talk
This shit's got no squawk or schlock, it's like Spock rock
I got a lot of jocks to mock, bad cops to knock
Peeps are gonna flock to gawk at the lyrical hawk
You'll be in a headlock deadlock like you got in the wrong wedlock
Don't know why you thought I forgot how to create a sonic aftershock
This isn't ad hoc, or a crock, got it locked up like a ziplock
I balk at bad lyrics like soldiers in Iraq with the shellshock
I'll walk you down the crosswalk or catwalk, I'll make your bedrock
I'll take you on a spacewalk, get around any landlock or roadblock
Take down Dock Ock or Killer Croc, keep flowing without a dropoff
Even if your block is chock full of livestock
You can trade in some boxtops at the Stop N Shop
At your top mach speed, kill yourself with hemlock
I'm the warlock of words, the Rupert Murdoch of nerds
Lyrical lawyer like Perry Mason or Matlock
You'll be hiding in the tunnels like a Morlock
I'm too original to get any play on K Roq
If you're the last to hear it, you'll be a laughingstock
It'll get you wired like electroshock
It gets kinda offensive like when you say Shylock
But I'm revealing some truths like Morgan Spurlock
I'm digging up secrets like my name was Sherlock
Dropping new ideas like John Locke
Making you bump along like Ad Rock or 2 Pac
Got you shelling out shamrocks like Maybach and Reebok
Rhymes hard for you to say like Vladivostok
This shit won't disappoint like Hancock
I'm murdering shit like Hitchcock
After this album, you'll be celebrating like Ewoks
Grooving and moving like hippies at Woodstock

Because I know what I speak and I speak what I know
I flow what I rhyme and I rhyme what I flow
I show what I learn and I learn what to show
I blow, I go, I glow, I grow, I throw, whoa!

So go get two sticks of Twix to fix
Your verbal tics like a cough flipped by Vicks
Or a pitbull ripped by Michael Vick
Rex ain't that kind of sick, join my clique
Stick with me and my chicks, get your kicks
Get some pics and get some clicks
We ain't going to the clubs with the strips and tips
We ain't sailing on ships, or having fits
We'll skip those trips, drop those drips
Make sure not to dip into those pits, quick
Lets inflict the conflict like its divided demographics
I predict the images I depict will transfix
Bring you bliss like fish and chips
Silly rabbit, these trix are for kids
Like New York Knicks are for fans
Like the River Styx is for dead mans
Dicks and pricks and redneck hicks
Will try to deep six and nix my mix
But my clips are Gladys Knight to your Pips
My images are so graphic, your braggadocio dips
If you're ignorant, my flow is hieroglyphics
You can't understand my specifics, this ain't no gimmick
But you will mimic my mosaic heroics
That will smash the cynics, boost the addicts
Afflict the convicts, make em take trips to the Pacific
To stay out of the bricks to hear my flicks and hits
It'll get you happy like Macklemore Thrifts or Schoolboy Q's spliffs
This disc of riffs is brisk, audio gifts that only risk
To eclipse your wish to only talk about
Whips and thick chicks, tucks and nips, lips to kiss, hips to miss
Clocks to grip, fifths to sip, scripts to pick
This shit ain't weak like stop and frisk, this shit is the ish
It won't make you say tisk, tisk, like and absentee St. Nick

Because I know what I speak and I speak what I know
I flow what I rhyme and I rhyme what I flow
I show what I learn and I learn what to show
I blow, I go, I glow, I grow, I throw, whoa!

Oh, you ain't through, you ain't bored, you want more
If more whoa is what you want, I'll give you verse three or four
It's no chore, I can roar like a dinosaur till my throat is sore
I can soar like a Norse named Thor, go bamf and teleport
I swore I'd escape your corpse, before you make me snore anymore
You rhyme like your shit is written in a code called Morse
Here's the score: you I abhor, I deplore, I ignore
I don't need anyone to help me score, I am my own mentor
Running this shit like a Michaels named Lorne
I'm pouring hot shit like Dior or a Dali called Salvador
It's a 24-hours-a-day Cold War between my lore and your deplorable yore, Egor, or is it Igor
Your dialogue is worse than porn, you're outscored before you even launch your war
Your verbal colors are badd, you want me to say I ador mi amor
I'll shout nevermore like a funeral for Lenore
Judge your shit like Sonia Sotomayor, no espirt de corps
At least one of us isn't a perdidor, senor
Let me underscore, with scorn, it ain't you paramour, therefore
Let me restore the rapport with the heretofore master everybody asks for
I got girls like Gilmore, they all say "feed me Seymour"
Gonna be filling up dance floors as big as the Fillmore
Backing up doors like John Densmore
Making references diverse as Bjork and Jim Thorpe
Doing intellectual parkour, I'm a time warp dork
I can see more shit than Geordi LaForge
My rhymes leave you in the metaphorical morgue, friends mourn
I got truth galore, inconvenient for you like Al Gore
I'm hardcore, I'm New York, you're Zsa-Zsa Gabor
On the run like Jason Bourne, hiding in the Azores
Like a toxic event, you're airborne
I'm telling you the awful truth, sicko, like Michael Moore
I know it'll leave you stillborn and forlorn, of course
The force of this source that tells you ney! like a horse

Because I know what I speak and I speak what I know
I flow what I rhyme and I rhyme what I flow
I show what I learn and I learn what to show
I blow, I go, I glow, I grow, I throw, whoa!