You better recognize what. Snatchh your fuckin' head from your neck. Word up it's the cold blooded sin. Strickly murder. Legion of Doom 94. Word 'em up this is how we do that shit. Techs to your record son. Shit. Fuck that shit. Word 'em up that how we're always been. Yo check it, I feel the vibe like Shanet Collaborate on niggas brains and bend you ass like a Sinse' My death sentense is danger I black out like Joe Ripken niggas hittin' the floor like the chamber The sick authorist transmits for no repent And activate the plan the Pentagon inelligents So listen close like musical chairs The L.O.D. is deep then the niggas Under The Stairs I crack million dollar script like an archetict And execute like the chair when I inflict death I got the creepiest slang in this galaxy And wreck the industry so mysteriously Coming with the funk from beneath I creep straight for juggelars And twist rap caps for all you motherfuckers Walk the bloody streets with 19 shots in the lueger Niggas be scared to face 50 Grand like Medusa The shit I produce is like gin and juice when it blend Scenes from Toni Braxton you'll Never Breath Again I rhyme without ability to reason, niggas is guilty of treason Who's to blame but the Legion to the Doom With punk niggas we got beef so (L.O.D. about to take it to the streets) On the mic we definatly got beats so (L.O.D. about to take it to the streets) Roy Jay go the wickedest mystic magestic flow From a homicidal clique, Yo E make that psycopathic mix I hits for the hecks or the shit that causes conflict in the script Beeotch my style set on fire to touch Venus My soul seeks the universe while I'm sleepin' I'm creepin' makin' myself develop with the chronic Electronic Million Dollar Man the mic bionic So you can feel it in your nerves when I blast off into the suburbs Conduct like ? with electrofying words I freak to them suicidal tracks break backs Niggas scarred fakin' fuckin' heart atttacks Oooh when I'm comin' through the crowd Niggas want static yo I got the gun pazoow, wizoow, word up I got the slaughter for your brains drive you insain Fuck that shit The moderation incobation of my creation Is instantaniously with my vocabulation accumulation Trust me as I bust thee, lyrical homicidal shit from Keith Murray If I had twenty four hours to live and one wish I wouldn't wish for no damn lifesavers I'd start going wild like Larry Davis The funk speach vigalante from the L.O.D. Gets funky freakly and freaky fluently And deep as Greek mythology on level Z Theres six million ways to die And eight million stories in the naked city and all them shits are lies So I keep my wittiest ironist hidious Psychosis bloodiest flow decitious Comin' from out this orbit deep space 9's wiggle my shit Meltin' crew down like synthetic acid Come half steppin' fession' through a section And get the midsection of your brain drain With mad man expression, no quesion and no second guessin' Yo forty dreams and blunts for witches. Yeah that's what we got for them niggas. Yo lets get on it get off it. L.O.D. we won't forfit. A-yo check it out. L.O.D. is the niggas man. A-yo put your money where your mouth is at nigga yeah. I have you rockin' dazie dukes and Reebok pumps nigga yeah, yeah. L.O.D. style for 94 yeah and it's on