Intro:
 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.

 50 Grand:
 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

 Hook:
 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)

 Ron Jay:
 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

 50 Grand:
 I got the slaughter for your brains drive you insain
 Fuck that shit

 News Interlude

 Keith Murray:
 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 24 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'

 Outro:
 Yo 40 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