STU BANGAS, Vanderslice, The Flying Dutchmen - Foul Weather lyrics

Yeah, the Flying Dutchmen, kid
The ghost ship risin'
And the storm cloud climbin', yeah

Flying Dutchmen, shit you never heard before
MCs ain't got the nerve to brawl, it's L Star
Foul weather
Something you ain't heard before
MCs ain't half as raw, it's Jon Murdock
The Flying Dutchmen
Shit you never heard before
MCs ain't got the nerve to brawl, it's L Star
Foul weather
Something you ain't heard before
MCs ain't half as raw, it's Jon Murdock

Rihanna's umbrella was under the weather
You ever stomped the yard hard
You get shot in your pleather
Same fella, same feather, best flock together
Get knocked by the cops
Sit in the box together
Fool's gold pirate meltdown in two karats
Red dragon, Hannibal came tonight
A true savage
True bastards, spit 'em in a compost heap
Dutchmen crush men, roll 'em in a fanto leaf
I need guns and all, razors and shanks
Blood and chocolate
Brain from a bomb bitch and
A dutch to spark shit semi spit awkward
Shatter glass jewels like statues
My rap boosts
The high energy content is natural
Counterpoint, harmonic frequency through
The aperture of still meshed mics completely
Seep into the passenger
Previewing the massacre
Plan a terror grind house
Tarantino premiere through these speakers
Let me find out
Death proves Kill Bill, pulp fiction
Needles stick him
With the Doap Nixon flow, different
No trippin'
Sandman sleep in a requiem for a dream
A nightmare in the state
Prepped until you sink

Flying Dutchmen
Something you ain't heard before
MCs don't got the nerve to brawl
It's Jon Murdock foul weather
Something you ain't heard before
MCs ain't even half as raw, it's L Star
Flying Dutchmen
Something you ain't heard before
MCs don't got the nerve to brawl
It's Jon Murdock foul weather
Something you ain't heard before
MCs ain't even half as raw, it's L Star

MCs is bitch made
Knew that since sixth grade
Caesar cut afro, samurai with a fade
Like Samuel L, Jeff fell back with a blade
Side step Jon 'Deck, straight razor a lame
Sleep never, Oxycontin pop, Heath Ledger
Overdose on Monogins
You know the seat cheddar
Hard body, had to saw off the long shotty
B-Real on a two inch reel
They call me Johnny
Be good, Michael Fox on the stage
Speaker kick, steam a spliff
Live my life in a daze
Jon hones with rhyme poems
Wonderland with the summer jam
Gun in hand, run it fam
Move like the Son of Sam
Merciless, David Berkowitz with the

Spit 44 cal, pow, murder you permanent
Men panickin'
Once I'm on and I'm smashin' 'em
Amount to fuck bitches like Jen Aniston
Roll with bitches, pop E, roll with bitches
Lined up, dick hard start from pole position
My flow position in the vocal
Booth alone is viscous
Its own existence, stand alone
Zone to listeners
My mic device is mighty trife
Just like Heidi Fleiss
Mike Tys on the track when I write

Flying Dutchmen, shit you never heard before
MCs ain't got the nerve to brawl, it's L Star
Foul weather
Something you ain't heard before
MCs ain't half as raw, it's Jon Murdock
The Flying Dutchmen
Shit you never heard before
MCs ain't got the nerve to brawl, it's L Star
Foul weather
Something you ain't heard before
MCs ain't half as raw, it's Jon Murdock