120% Darkside Justice - Ill Bill, Jedi Mind Tricks

Fuck the machine, I’m raging against the broke life

I love the cream, my sayings affect the coke price

My demons are devils to the things that I don’t like

Can I detach myself former I know it’s on trife

Murder assault, powed out a control type

Worshiping at the author of rhymes like a low life

Dress correct, heavy metal and brother roll tight

I’m obsessed with death, hell do something Sean Price

Know the tech kid is out of thunder

No respectable but fat like bounty hunter

No remorse, mega force records seeking the story

We kill em all, zip up the bag, bring em to the mall

Bring him to the coroner table then cut him up and look inside of him

Why the fuck would they think that someone lied to them?

Sold em the dead dreams, listening to philosophers

Going against me?

Victory is impossible

Blood, money and death, dark side justice

Trust nothing except, dark side justice

Fuck love and respect, dark side justice

120% dark side justice

My rap’s scary, it escaped from my Blackberry

Your rap stays trapped, it’s fake and imaginary

My rap full of guts and bad vocabulary

My rap has drug tracks and blood capillaries

It’s all cemetery, turn about mortuaries

I ain’t saying anything out of the ordinary

Not unusual, it’s the cult itinerary

Attending funerals with a dull contemporary

Whether it’s putting you in blind sense but never necessary

Gun straightened paper better than a secretary

With just one shot turn a jock into a Jerry

The Glock said we carry, turn The Rock into a fairy

Murder for no reason other than monetary

The devil made me do it, it’s involuntary

I keep clips and new papers obituaries

Behind a bookcase with a trick dictionary

Blood, money and death, dark side justice

Trust nothing except, dark side justice

Fuck love and respect, dark side justice

120% dark side justice

It’s a perfect murder scene, a perfect murder about a perfect person

Blue Haria verse perfectly cursing a virgin

What’s the faculty of energy perfect exertion

Call me majesty, my words are conversed in a serpent

Pussy boy left the war, they call it desertion

I am dirty, I am opposite in every detergent

If it isn’t a Grey Goose then it’s certainly Bourbon

I write my rhyme in Beirut with a Burgundy Bourbon

Hard body rap, punch you in the chatter box

I would never walk the hallways unless I had a ox

That’s the reason why they put me in patted box

I would’ve never been a problem if I had my pops

I pull motherfuckers cold like a magic shot

Mossberg means spin several medal savage shots

The heater hit the fuckin flesh like the cattle prod

My physical body’s the vehicle for wrath of God

Blood, money and death, dark side justice

Trust nothing except, dark side justice

Fuck love and respect, dark side justice

120% dark side justice