Opening Theme - Clear Soul Forces

Yo, I’m ill enough to face a hornets nest half naked

If we shoot this later your viewers get it through simulation

Cause when nameless banging imagination is racing

And playing out like a DBZ scene with super Saiyans ascended

At the top like a tinted part of your front window

Woulda called it a windshield but the shit didn’t rhyme, yo

Mutated vocals, wolverine mixed with a blade from Hanzo-Hattori

Savage when wordy, destroyer vision glauco-think my shit is some psycho

Telekinetic mind fold, hitting you up with a mic stand

Setting up Mr. Socko combatic style is vato

Doomsday device a nigga off the cage and fuck the top rope

Noveliss with the lift and my fist and forearm through your throat

Catapulted at eighty mph and feet deep below

Phone in them paramedics evac tell 'em get they people

How you liking them apples I spit it quick as Carlito

Leave you in fetal, nigga

Yelling «flame» on plus I’m a Ninja, no stealth

With two molotov cocktails tied together, I’m using them as nunchucks

I’m Michelangelo with 'em, with my face under this mask but I forgot to put the

eye holes in it

A pyro with a blindfold, belligerent blind fury bending a microphone with the

breath of General Iroh

Arsonist live shows, spit for defense the Praying Mantis

Emerging from my shell with more fire power than Samus

Bounty hunter percussion punisher, push the standard

Getting my bounce on like Guile when you just stand there

Game up, elbow dropping a beat off the top of the Himalaya

The Randy Savage, New World Order of rap spazzes

Wolf Pac shit, power bomb bastards Kevin Nash mixed with a Stinger Splash plus

Torcher Racking

Check it, cold as a Dean Malenko alias, the Iceman

No Bobby Drake, the man of a thousand flows and you can’t hang

Studio mode Ila roll up trees

Got the fans fiending for our opening theme

Fanning off the flames from our opening them from our opening theme

Aqueduct mouth flows, flowing out I flood the streets with albums coming out

So cut the jargon out fuck y’all talking about

Ong bak karate head chop (choppa chop ya chop ya chop ya)

Skull rocking like a sniper shot go blocka blocka blocka blocka

Nah, brother too busy dumbing on y’all suckers

Tear the roof off just with the flow gutters

Fattest raps I keep 'em coming by the bakers dozen

Tight behind lines like Dell Curry’s son is

Golden state of mind, hall of fame rhymes thumping

A bronze bust fit in the trunk, bet both woofers will crunch once your car’s

running

So shake something, move something like Hi-Tek was on production

Nameless head banging production you Questlove it

Now when bender grip the crown the whole crowd sit up erect

From gentlemen to your women friends, everybody connect

Just to peek a glimpse of the man and the myth live and direct

I bring the spirit of my culture whenever scrambling adjectives together have

you snapping your neck

It’s an automatic effect when you hearing something this fresh

And we do it to death, ashy to classy, you know the rest

So it ain’t no time for commas unless you talking forking dollars

Four horseman of scholarly, ignoramus rapping

Attacking Animaniacs with a bologna stick in my slacks

Slicker riggity raw raps, niggas still in they nap sacks

Knowing they lacking spinal bone, shimmy up to the the plate and put a chicken

on the microphone

I got my welding arcs sparks glowing, metal flying molding iron blowing exhaust

But never exhausted smog is clouding your iris

Waving bye to you niggas with off brand styles

Syllables, masterful switch it, south paw crack you and split your mandible

Supreme fuck-it ness from my life being dismantled

So this weight that’s on my shoulders is something you couldn’t handle

Get back, yo, call it that special seasoning, I’m going McCormick off killing

verses

Talking bodies and hearses, these gorgeous women applaud us, my brother,

fuck is you talking?