Muscle, Lex Starwind - Muscle lyrics

Foundation, check it out, yo
Lex Starwind, up on the mic first
Second up, Jon Murdock, motherfucker

We killed this Tonka truck diesel devastator
Verbal regulator
Heat up, passion premeditator, dead a hater
Featherweight a heavy hand
Shadow box ya obsolete you're rasta? Please
You'll get rocked to sleep
I gots to eat, it's necessary
Cream like Ben & Jerry's
Move like Andretti 'cause my camp ready
Stand ready, team boats
Mean toast for the opposition
It seemed close
Clean sweep folks out position
By a landslide, hands high, standby
Cats unplugged in the club, left on standby
Your man fly, tackle, cracked bone
Trophy, snatched the Heisman
Fuck your lineman
Crews living savage, ice rock plottin'
Cuckoo for the karats
Twist your screws loose
With the ratchet, niggas get a clue
It's a habit the fuck you gonna do
When they blastin'? Cover
Lawnmower man, grass heads, snake hunter
Harrison Ford, four by four, the blade runner
Way under, soon to rise to the top
Shine on your block
Fine line between the bottom
Line and the top, nigga

Yeah, get it right, my niggas
LS Outlaw signing off
Next up, my nigga, Jon Murdock
Dark City, motherfucker

The radical
Tactical admiral magical tackled you
Compatible animal passin' through to
Attack a few crocodile, death spin
Sockets rippin' sessions
Confederate henchmen, fenced in
Restin' there with less limbs
Can't use a tourniquet
Permanent blurs from words I spit
Merciless, purchasers work with us
To slow your nervousness
Calm down your heart rate until Dark City
Part 8 these dark days will never go
Away when my thoughts blaze one to the two
(two) , two to the three (three)
Three to the forty-five shot to your tee
Yeah, the white one, like no
One in fight club, i never liked guns
But turn your whole fraternity burgundy
Once the night comes
Jon Murdock, your storm of the century
Bourne Identity remedy for y'all
That's why you're sent to me
Competitive editor, men at attention
Et cetera
One man that stands against ten of ya
The better competitor that's point blank
I Shawshank for the tall rank
You all shrank, coming up short
Now got a small tank
And can't battle with that
The war's called off
Fucking with me's a bad choice
Prepare for holocaust yeah, motherfucker
Jon Murdock, yo, what, yo