Оригинален текст
Ras Kass
We on some Phantom of the Opera s**t
It's the gothic s**t
As I produce the Waterproof mask
You never ask the question, "Who's the man behind the red mask?"
About to a driveby on MC's so listen
Aiyyo!
Yo my mic check is Robo-Tech
Run over the track till my lyrical GigaPet slow flow
Cardiac arrest like FloJo, rock ice Ro-Ro
Pack fo-fo fo' sure though
More and more cream, and Still Love You Rakeem
The game of death, we kickin in the chest like Kareem
My wingspan is wider than Rodan
My sweet and sour wit nose candy sniff blow by the gram
I gramatically slam, before I eat a groupie b*tch p*ssy
The Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan is eatin ham
So catch me in Deep Space Nine
Wit eight million stories on seven continents
And six billion bullets on the Star Trek
Solid state logic thug electronic
Eat, drink, sleep, s**t, fk, build and smoke chronic
Playa, this is not a game, I said it before
went through the door I came wit Wu-Tang
The Artist Formerly Know as You
Got sn*tched out his truck on Florence and Normandy Duke
We strictly Digital
Bobby Digital
Yo, yo, yo, yo
The Last Starfighter, my thoughts make the sun shine brighter
I bust in a b*tch mouth to make her teeth seem whiter
Roam like space drones through all time zones
Your face get blown, I make home, Bobby'll fk Grace Jones
Mocha caps without lithium cristal
Raise the pendulum cuts through your ear tissue, Digital signal
Scramble your brain then we gain the visuals
Like Microsoft, I might micro-walk before the lights go off
You develic girls, I give your tonsils eighty stitches
Bobby long storm, even fk the Eastwick Witches