The End

(альбом: Rasassination - 1998)

My acoustic pugilistic linguistic, rap fabric
Is a mixture of Arabic, plug 'em in
Plug 'em in
Plug 'em in, plug 'em in
Come to spread it
The world exclusive
Check it

From the underground producers
Turn your face stone like Medusa
Slap dick on a wicked bitch
Or righteous ones weaken sons
Those who burn hurt turn nuns
I rekindle the flame
With the name Bobby
Make it a hobby
Smoke the honey dip got my throat groggy
You doo-doo brain dirtbag derelict dumbfuck
What the fuck is wrong with you dickhead?
Numb-nuts
Just because you made a song or two
What's the balance due on your royalties?
Record companies spoil me
As the wiz hot oil me
Fuck that savage back up
Wu-Tang step inside the club
Niggas might act up
One potato
Smack you like the crossfader
Rap data, go back to pissy elevators
Escape the projects, living inside the skyscraper
Fuck that I'm taking back the forty acres
With the cream of nature
(Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby)

(Huh)
Yo, my Eve called 1-Adam-12, I got arrested
First she protested
But on the seventh day I rested (son I always had the power!)
Before the Midori Sour with red cherries
Hereditary trait, seeking salvation like the Cranberries
Wrote Murder with Angela Lansbury often
Til' my biological clock stops and my casket falls
Each cell ticks like Boston basketball
C-arson was asking y'all
Is Ras Kass the last to fall victim for wearing no mask at all?
No gimmicks, just me being me
But you ain't bending or offending me
'Cause anyways Hennessy used to be a better friend to me
But I had to stop drinking so many pints (Why?)
'Cause the tendency to forget
It ain't baseball, America's favorite national pastime is white
Supremacy
Never seen a nigga granted clemency
My metaphors is meta-five
My styles go up in your raw dog little boy
You get fucked, like pedophiles
When it's all said and done I'mma retire to an island in the Caymans
Enslaving caucasians living off your mama's life savings
I take it all in stride
Dennis Rodman's laced to the side
This nigga glide, like Clyde
My hands was tied
Silent cries screamed genocide
When two-thirds of the planet died in the end

The end justifies the means
The end is power
(Power) Power corrupts absolute power corrupts absolutely
Young black man, let us begin

The end justifies the means
The end is power
(Power) Power corrupts absolute power corrupts absolutely
Young black man, let us begin