(feat. Mad Child, Everlast, Divine Styler) 



[Evidence] 

Yo the rhyme excursions touch minds like brain surgeons 

Feel the lyric teargas - even on clean versions 

No profanit goddamnit hard like granite to the utmost 

I'm butter on rye - always hired to play the low post 

I stretch to go the distance yo my lungs are mad elastic 

I'm dope on plastic like Flex I always keep it classic 

Expressions in the facial I'm more racial from carribean rhythms 

I hit 'em with a battered flow padded with circles added twice 

I'm nice on ice the line slice your dome 

And separate rhymes from poems 

My life.... 

Ain't tryin to see no grammy or oscar 

Best believe these styles will rub off like pastas 

On people yo check Dilated Evidence 

The influential rock rhymes in sequential format 

You'll see the doormat if you acting disaccordingly 

Something to the effect of fatboys and disorderlies 



[Mad Child] 

I'll take you from he man to shira 

Battlecat to cringer 

Midevil Messenger, westcoast avenger 

Take it to the street battle me? That's a fucking sin 

Go one round with Mad Child you'll be sucking wind 

Snapping handcuffs just for de-concentration 

Then I broke out the bus - a mental hospital patient 

On a weekend pass but I still come sick 

Psychopathic you're dealing with a deranged lunatic 

Soon to kick your teeth in, and then go berserk 

Even Van Gogh looked at me and said you're one piece of work 

So I said lend me an ear, cause I'm the state of the art 

First I'll feast on your brain, then rip your body apart 

There's a party of heart stuck inbetween my fangs 

Wrap a rope 'round your neck, and you still couldn't hang 

'Cause you're way off track, you need realignment 

Murdering masterpieces in solitary confinement 



[Everlast] 

I'll keep your backside open like the english channel 

I rock the sure shot, I keep it hot like flannel 

I'll survey your panel with my foot up in your anal 

You think it can't happen? Kid, cause I'm rappin'? 

Ain't no gun clappin' cut the jaw jackin' 

Let the joints get shot and see where it's not 

Then kick off your shoes jump off my jock 

And check the new style Whitey Ford's prone to rock 

Once upon a time, not long ago 

Before Hip Hop was made for the radio 

An MC show had to co-rock the masses 

Used to wear a kangol with the clear gazelle glasses 

So bang bang boogie up jump the party 

Someone clapped off and scattered everybody 

Drunk off bacardi, high off the trauma 

It's death from above the livest dive bomber 

In the squadron I break formation 

I get New York love like my name's Ken Son 

??At tea?? they rock bells till they break the dawn 

Steady puffin owl's and fight hell like spawn 

My moves are animated my crew's reinstated 

While you cats suspension's up in my dimensions 

We can ease tensions or we can get rowdy 

So I'ma keep it on the love and do my duty/doody like howdy 



[Divine Styler] 

Direction short term plan regionalize rhyme boards 

With the hordes - I'm satan dynasty killer 

Refill the chords with the sling on down 

Venom spit regurgitate def scripts I sound 

Cylinder never python, prevail Mad Child 

Physical justic can't rush this for now 

Move fake of the game time set backs don't sweat that 

God don't test that - too much infinite to get at 

Space to fills all the members got the illa drills 

And if you with the rhyme skill 

Bust the revealings of my feelings of these dealings 

Will the represent shall 

I build three phases of death 

The illusion is to sweat that you reflect 

When you feel the veil 

Divine Styles circumnavigate nine circles of hell 

You keep on you don't stop 'cause a nigga never stay stale 

WudaWudaWudaWudaWudaWudaWhat I'm saying is is that... 

You ain't you ain't ready for that shit [echoes]