Clint Eastwood (phi Life Cypher Version)

"Yo. Yo. Yo."

'Cause I'm this, Gorillaz from the mist lyricist and

my thoughts be twisted.

I spit the wickedest rhymes from a time that's never

existed.

My futuristic linguistics turn fools into statistics.

I'm a lyrical misfit with a sadistic characteristics.

I perform murderous acts on my tracks with a single

breath,

and if a boy [?] test, then I be stampin' upon his

chest

Done makin' a mess.

No other man could conceive the weed I'm consumin'

and I transform from my cartoon pseudonym, turn to a

human.

I spit words from my mouth that be turnin' you inside

out.

And I tie knots in intestines just like I'm a boy

scout

that's workin' 'em out.

Now rearrangin' your whole skeletal structure.

Then I find some nine inch nails to perform some

acupuncture.

When I punch ya, I rupture one of your ribcage in a

rage

and I turn you into a cartoon too, then erase the

page.

I take you back to the stone age with Barney and Fred

Flintstone.

Get Dino to tear-up your Moschinos and then force you

to limp home.

I'ma take off like a jet pack, when I get back better

step back.

I'ma make the crowd react and nod their heads until

their necks snap.

I can flip-flaps while riding a skateboard and doin' a

tic-tac.

and leave your head in a spin like staring at turn

table slip mats.

I'm a conquering lion, big cat. This is real talk, not

big chat.

Did ya get that? 'Cause I ain't no small timer, I

rhyme on big tracks.

Now feel the vibes I create.

This heavy weight I'm about to detonate

and demonstrate how I generate lyrics that

supernaturally levitate.

To the top my lyrics escalate, accelerate and leave

you panickin',

take the ground from beneath your feet, leave you

Skywalk-in' like Anakin.

I'm sharper than the tips of Zulu spears and Olympic

javelins.

My style is totally buck wild but most definitely

happecnin'.

To your brains I be tappin' in, to computers I be

hackin' in.

To me, I be out of this world like aliens who were

time travelin'.

I'm dabblin' in the Fists of Fury technique when I

speak.

Forget Karate Kid and these wooden blocks, I chop

through concrete.

Concrete, concrete, concrete

Wha-wha-well-well-wha-well

I'be been stoned ever since the days of creation, I've

been red.

I'm a mad dred, causin' so much havoc in Russel's

head.

My lyracism is just like an aneurysm inside his

brain.

He plays the beat in a trance and he's never feeling

no pain.

I could never be a racist because I posess so many

faces.

I'm one of those beat-up bad wit' bags and a pair of

braces.

With lines longer than laces I'm gracin' you with my

presence.

The lyrics went flippity-flick, and ya bubble like

effervescence.

I pulverize and bamboozle, shave numb skulls like a

poodle.

I smashed the top of your head with a guitar I

borrowed from Noodle.

I'm as animated as Japanese animes causin'

callamities.

Some serious savory from my roarous rhymes of

reality.

At the speed of sound, I'm running around the clown

that tried to defeat us

but that tenacity is an audacity that you ever thought

you could beat us.

Beat us, beat us, beat us, beat us, beat us, beat us,

beat us, beat us...