The 3 Wise Men

(Verse 1: Ill Bill) I never liked Imus, always thought he was a dickhead The media want to try to censor my lyrics instead I'd be a fucking idiot if my lyrics didn't reflect The pain caused by a world by a business of death Blowjob from your mother and wife at the same time Sit back, recline with my cocaine rhymes Heroin beats, let the rhythm hit him, terrible heat Relentlessly, effortlessly hit them Street villainess, we the chosen of man now get in the van I get it cookin' like meth in a pan Tie your arm up with a belt and inject in a scab Round trip to the drug spot set in a cab Rolling Stone concert flicks, thousand dollar chips Model chicks with Katana tits and hypnotic hips Get sprayed at your table at the Babylon club Left dazed, mangled, disabled, and splattered in blood (Verse 2: O.C.) Me and Bill are both martyrs Flows so similar to Harvard books inside libraries One step beyond smarter Cajun hot, we throw it up like a half-court lob Into the quarter when the shot clock does 'em So sick, fuck around, become a victim Don't blame me, young cats put themselves in this position You're facing a dilemma There's no telling when you might end up face off with a nutcase and a sinner Embrace this and parish, face that shows terror No punches or edits, I rival up the devil I walk past everything falls dead Verbally spreading my medula Ho store speech released unchained mechanics In the form of bar with the music Join us and permantly sleep cause your appointment Two guns, me, O.C and bill, we're double-jointed (Verse 3: Jeru The Damaja) The rhyme alchemist, hip hop scientist Mix bonds in a lab like an Al Quada terrorist My shit narcotic from start to finish I knock out so many teeth I get kick backs from dentists I feed MC's to the vultures, man While their chicks' asses up in the air like Chin Chan Wanna test this? Have a good medical plan Cause I bash you in the dome like Captain Caveman And this dope's a billion bucks a gram I wipe the blood off my mic and fuck a female fan You never thought you'd see me, Bill, and O on a track So dope the DEA thought it was crack When it comes to rockin a mic I do works So many exotic feats they call me Captain Kurk Shit-faced like the jerk My shit's a street sweeper, your shit just squirt > > Lyrics posted by Heroin4yourears