Where's the intruder?
Looks like he went to the tower
Before I rock raps, I drink a keg of Listerine
Then I spit the freshest lines you'll ever hear for centuries
Then I form blazing sword and cut your mic cords
And kill them garbage rhymes only your friends get hyped for
Blitz your whole team, them niggas need to come clean
So I give 'em an acid wash like old school Levi jeans
(Lockjaw!) Crackin' your faulty frame
And I bring the house down without hijackin' planes
Locked stocked with two smokin' barrels and will use it
To fuck up more beats per minute than drum'n'bass music
Trunks ain't a rapper, he's a monster from the future
Twistin' your body in more positions than Kama Sutra
Smart-ass, gettin' the Last Word with Jim Rome
With a right hand like Dr. Claw that's known for breakin' bones
I'll get you next time Gadget, next time
We can have a close encounter of the fucked up kind
Time warp, set on