Urban Legends Masters of Illusion

[33 second instrumental at the beginning of the song]

{*scratched: "Here's a little story that must be told"*}

[Motion Man]
No happy campers, rappers sit in dirty-ass Pampers
It's an assassination, public lies, now cover your eyes
My style gory Michael Edward urban Scissorhand cut
My Orenthal scamper, Hertz hurdles, slicin his apple
I'm on some tight lyrics like Bill Clinton get high and snicker
I run the United States, front nut
Guaranteed to get some focus from my folks in the cut an'
They feel a partner
Runnin from home plate, goin upstairs like I'm Galarraga
I'm not that sucker duck batterer that you can bean with pitches
Spit in your mask like Romanowski did yo' face in public
Smack kids with fish wrap, I'm two rotations on the pitchback
Exploit the frontline, yo secondary, throw salutes at
Too many rappers havin slumber parties smokin weed
I'm throwin stones and rappers pillow fight with all they might
Pimp slap your whole Earth, her fat Aunt Jemimah ass works
Rappers get touched, molested, used up, and left neglected
And sell they Duke shoes for a tie in Cuban, Colombian
Paraphenalia, my styles cradle up your bald ass
Straight up I'll carry ya, and drop her off as human waste
Go kiss your broad, and tell me how my crooked stick taste