Endless Counter-Attack

Going underground. I travel to the depths

Fighting tooth and nail - a battle to the death

Kick him in ass. Smack him in the face

Take it to the stage. Pack ‘em in the place

Straddling the line. Picking up an axe

Burning down the house. Ripping up the wax

Bleeding from the nose. I throw the coup de grace

A certain set of skills to show ‘em who’s the boss

Flew across the seven seas with weapons for a sinful session

Just before I burned the city down I asked a simplе question…

Bass for your face and adds max fuel to thе subwoofer

Grabs the medulla. You betcha. Fool, I’m Abdullah The Butcher

Get the picture? I’m pushing ‘em. Bashing ‘em. Check. Necks snapping echoed

A palm smack. Electrodes made to explode on contact

Next episode

Review the train of thought

Grew to hate the law

Ooh, I like it raw

Mood to bang a gong

Buddha’s sacred song

I knew the wait was long

It’s rude to make ‘em yawn

Who will take the pawn?

You should make a bomb

To the break of dawn

To a certain extent

Buried in dirt and cement

Word. How many styles can one person invent?

With raw sound factors. C’mon now. Calm down rappers and dirty

Dog pound trackers attacked with compound fractures and shit

Suckers polishing an old brass knob

Bugging out like a stone wack job

Nastier than a gross fat slob

Kiddies gonna say ‘whoa’ - Black Rob

Meditate as the thought rotates

Violating that’s not OK

Coming back with a hot showcase

Lousy-ass rappers got no bass

Tick-tock. I’m on time like a Swiss clock

Tick-tick. A bouquet of flowers for Slick Rick

Gentle nudge. I’m judgmental. I embody snobby thoughts

Got this ungodly hobby locked and so your sloppy copy’s mocked

I’m strictly sticking with the old school “Ladi Dadi” talk

I’ll block a raw karate chop. It’s the body-body rock

Treacherous. Rap madness incarnate taking target practice