We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.
  • Digital Track
    Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $1 USD  or more

    You own this



About a hundred and seventy five horses
Take a look at me
I don’t give a fuck
I still move rapidly
The size of a tanker filled with gasoline
You cock snackers don’t understand my lethal rappery
I’m getting sick of you jokers
Ya’ll niggas leaving the deck
I’m pulling cards like its Russian roulette
I’m pulling triggers ‘till there’s nothing else left
I’m pulling triggers ‘till your neck is a mess
And that smile is on top of your desk
I come across with a three piece blazer
Looking stunning like a motherfucking taser
Holding erasers
Watch the bullets chase ya
Do me a favor
Don’t run ‘cause I don’t wanna shake what your momma gave ya
I’ll take your work and pitch what your boss baked up
Never moved a brick but I push a case of
Your body face up
Cold and wearing make up

Set up a frontline
Engage to create a punch line
I eat raps, spit wack cats out at lunchtime
And if the sun shine till tomorrow
Explode hollow tips at foe follow grip mics and blow halogen lights
At precise points to point press your eyes
Warpaint to paint pictures like pagan’s paint paintings
Stimulate great simulating weight when I’m spraying
I’ve seen sights of mics how you like that?
Holographic data just retype that
After the war bring the beats and mics back
As I recite raps with my staff in my right hand to knight tracks
Exact syntax of synth slaps react sick twisted
Your body is blood-stained defending war grounds
Where I left all my foes slain
And if the rain cleared the fog then I’ll follow the storm
See you at the next rhyme when hip hop is reborn

Witness the manuscripted and written depiction of a vision
Depicting the vicious and wicked image I’m living
I’m a man among neglected infected decrepit and wretched
Descended from the heavens, resurrecting is my mission
And I am the man incepted with the weapon implemented
For affecting and inflicting the sickened with the precision of medicinal incisions
Fuck traditional religion
Pray to above but love sinning
Play to the drum of blood dripping
Nigga who the fuck you kidding with killings, massacre and murders
Blood on the government's hands in other lands you never heard of
However you never wonder why these clans are trying to hurt ya
In 91 we put Sadaam to shame
And it’s a damn shame
That it came to fast planes blasting into vast flames
And melting the mass frames of centers of world trade
And the man we love to hate is the center of world fame
For my ending and last claim
Look how quick we had the man blamed

All I’ve got is pain
Encaged, enraged to feign my fate
My hate I take to all who stall a change
Wounded cuts cross
Enforce the force
Reverse the course
All I need is peace
Unhealed, unsealed
Reveal to feel the fear
And steer it clear of those who care
Incentive to sentence all of my sins
And sentence all of my wins
And sentence all of my foes
A cold winter blows
And now I’m on top while the empire folds
Bleeding from my soul
Searching for a code
Angels holding scepters accepting all of my woes
Misery has called
Leaving a message for what was done
But my eyes and ears only sense what’s to come
The path I lead is toward the sun
While the life I live has just begun

I rung and sung these lyrical decrees
Like Judge Mathis
I rap raw, sentence wack emcees under rap law
Nine leaves we be’s beyond tapping jaws
We tapping spinal cords
Tapping toes to floors
Clap your hands applause
Murder all
Met all the murky their efforts I’m hurting the feckless
Depending if they flirt with my fetish
Fermenting the letters
The funk that kills and fractures my foes
Embedded in those to better my flows
Yo stay on your toes
Like ballerinas my galleria will wreck your palacia
Conceded of falacia cono maldita
Me and my people pica peaking through receivers and speakers on stereos
Stang will bury foes
Between a hard and a hard place
Put a rock in your soft face
Inscribed he tried to be Scarface but died from Stang’s mic blaze
End of your days
Stang’s the second wave
Though it’s all fair
When you test my Nine Leaves, it’s warfare


from Volume Two (2002​-​2003), released August 1, 2022


all rights reserved