Exoskeleton - Jake Palumbo, Ruste Juxx, Tek

Deep from the depths of the dirt, I’m a demon

Terrorize your nightmares, bitch while you dreaming

J-U-Double-X, you motherf***ers next

Suplex, n***a, break your motherf****ng neck

Murder-One case-beater, walk out of court laughing

Lead shower your corpse in a blood-bathing

Vampire, nocturnal beast with it

Murder rate increasing, wack rapper deceasing

You fragile, I’m wild with that mad style

Been a bad seed, Juxx was a bad child

My enemies die slow, it’s torture

3rd degree burns on your body when I scorch ya

Sunblock, Ong Bak, elbow to forehead

Double back, reload, empty out more lead

You duck, dive, dip when I’m dumping

N****s fronting, got that shotgun pumping

HOOK:

I storm through your fortress with the force of an elephant

There’s not a b**** bone in my Exoskeleton

Two puffs of petro, my brains turn to gelatin

Grind 9 to 9, the city is all mine

If I die tomorrow, or they throw me in cuffs

I will not back down to a couple of local tuffs

So no, we won’t hang around to hear your metaphors

Get the f**k back, Jack

Stand clear of the closing doors

VERSE 2 — Jake Palumbo

Never walk with the sheep, I’m avenging the herd

You expecting Dawson’s Creek?

This Revenge Of The Nerd

Before Netflix & Chill, it was Blockbuster Nights

I used to date a White Russian up in Killa Crown Heights

Mix a White Russian out of breast milk & Nesquik

Mix a hit record on an SSL desk, quick

I’m Destro, you some Cobra Commanders

My snare drums get frequently mistaken for hammers

Beats By Palumbo, Thorazine to your Thorax

Fleetwood Mac, I cut your cocaine with Borax

Dr. Seuss flows, getting shows for 3 or 4 racks

Poet laureate for the groundlings like the Lorax

Send my mail to Gravesend, Bucktown

When my grey-haired uncle plays with guns

You should Duck Down

Ruste, Smif-N-Wessun in the SpaceLAB, what now?

Touch down, take the money & run, POW!

(REPEAT HOOK)

VERSE 3 — Tek of Smif-N-Wessun:

P***y h* wanna test I, must be ready to die

You’re f**king with the Prince of the Stuy

I’m just another great from the 718

It’s the silverback, outfit all BAPE

I point fingers & bodies drop

Leg, chest, head shots

Come thru any block

Let the Mac Milli rock

I remember days when I was at the Days Inn

Bagging up, tryna make a G before a day’s end

I never spoke that

N***a where the smoke at?

(Where the smoke at?)

40-Calli on my waist, don’t provoke Tek

I told the banker that I got that

Shoot that light s***, n***a threw a 5 and I threw 6

Ohhhhhh…

Diadora’s killed the game that’s for certain

Curtains, waves so thick that you can surf in

You see my n***as, them my n***as for life

Don’t get yours cut short

Rest in Peace Sean Price

Smoke…

(REPEAT HOOK)