The Trilogy
[Verse 1: Jehst]
This saga will be spoken in three parts
Startin' from the moment this tree sparks
Opponents get broken like weak hearts
Step into my theme park
The beast can't fuck with my karma
Any drama's confined to these speech marks
Margins and paragraphs
Bastard tried to sabotage, but can't see past the camouflage
Pay-phone chameleon
My tone disappears into thin air
My skin reflects light like I'm not there
I cotch where the skyline's ashtray gray
But shine amber
And always stay cloaked below the wide-angled spy camera
Mind tangled by the Thai ganja
My words rep the downtrodden like a strike banner
Analog data — know me as the codebreaker
Smoked out, playin' poker with the lone ranger
Puttin' LSD in your salt shaker
And if it's in bad taste? Well, fuck it! That's my own flavour
The stone-age beat maker
I'm huntin' for drums, runnin' my tongue along the gum on this free paper
Another young-freak of nature
Dirty faced crate-raider
Buy now/pay later for my open mic night capers
Alternatively, taste the fire of these fiber-tipped light sabers
Any time wasters taken by the tie-breaker, you're better off skydivin' off a skyscraper
[Verse 2: Ricochet]
Props to Edmonton
I'm bringin' the light like Thomas Edison
Swingin' like pocket-watches and pendulums
Big-up the felondem and fuck coppers!
I'm half-a-millennium ahead of them fools like Buck Rogers
(So wicked!) Like my villainous mum
Attila the Hun would've paid anyone a million for killin' her son
I bring oblivion with street adlib
I'm tearin' through a braire and a crew like cheap fabric
It's like a trilogy, we link often
Devisin' ways of takin' out these MC's before they blink (Pop 'em!)
My blank papers, I put ink on 'em
Then I be spittin' writtens so sick, shit! My shrink's got 'em
Certain pricks will be hurtin' if Ric's lurkin'
I'm a sick person, stick-up kid like Dick Turpin
And I'm controllin' your soul like I was opium
And vocally blowin' up shows, spittin' petroleum
Sparkin' half a gram, dark and I'm rather prang
My crew travels in four-packs tighter than lager cans
'Cause I'm the phattest ever marga-man
I've got the darkest fans who start arms in the parks after jams
Now I'm part of the fam', my plan's simple
Spit a murderous verse, I rip like Van Winkle!
Pass me the resin, I'll flip the script so far up it's own arse
I'll leave the startin' part as the ending
[Verse 3: Tommy Evans]
Yo, beneath the underdog, fightin' the fat cats
Cloaked by London fog, writin' in fat caps
My pseudonym — a toilet cubicle doors
The conductor constructs a musical score
My beautiful chords are suitable for all sorts
I stand tall, does that mean I won't fall short?
I think not! That's the reason why I drink lots
My shrink's shot, I see demons in the ink blots
As the sphinx plots my purpose, I stay civil
Tryin' to decipher the meanin' of her riddles
The mixed signals, a bit fickle
Femme fatale smash egos if they're a bit brittle
A ginnels by twilight, I adjust my eyesight
My life's finite — rewind, watch the highlights
A man born with implanted memories
Fell void, can't test 'cause I lack empathy
Chased relentlessly by a force from Hell
Caressed by a touch of evil like Orson Welles
Film Noir third man, I dwell in the cursed land
This is my truth — I'm tellin' it first hand!
[Outro]
"The trilogy will be heard"