The Flying Dutchmen, Grand Scheme - Deadly Impact lyrics

Yeah, motherfuckers it's the Dutchmen, what?

Original soundtrack
The foul weather now or never
Out for cheddar, style is
Better, sound is clever, alca-treasure
San Fran, Sandman, Van Damme
Spin kick, when it land, fam? KO
You can't stand
Right hook until my hand jam
It's your last stand
Like custard, musket, trained in the badland
Fuck this, dust spliffs
Blaze in my man's land
Hustlers love this, they say
"That's my damn jam"
Vanderslice you to pieces, you need Jesus
Grab the knife till your spleen split's
My team's swift
Grammar's nice, when he spit's
The beat kicks
Like Bruce Leroy, B-boy, peep this
The illustrator
Kill a stranger in the feel of danger
But still a savior
Ill with flavor when I spill and blaze ya
Conceal the razor in my grill until
I peel your face up
Run in the bank with a shank, fucker
Fill the case up

Lex Starwind, nigga foul weather, yo

Foul weather off of the shore
These kids lost in
Diamonds, shining in the maelstrom
They flossin'
Mayflower slave ship, bound to hit Boston
Torch 'em, burn 'em in the flames
It'll cost 'em sodium, Cyanide tablets
Broken through the fabric
Of life's fragile shell till they cracked it
Savage, venom laced tapes, not your average
You faggot, it's duck season
You silly rabbit
Dutchmen crush men off the shores
And never been there
Deep impact, monsoons, so bring your swimwear
Nightmare, three parsecs to your light year
Around the universe and back
But still right here
Appear from nowhere, return to the same place
An alternate plain of reality
Different space
Where the world line helix, space-time prefix
To your own existence of future
You couldn't see shit

The Dutchmen grand Scheme, yeah

I puff enough dust to bungee
Jump from a satellite
Reenact the Black Dahlia murder
With a rainbow knife
Your mouth scream "gangster" but
Your outfit scream "hermaphrodite"
I squeeze around your neck till you
Changing color like traffic lights
I grab the mic, and drop verses so outlandish
You couldn't scratch the surface of
My words with belt sanders this upstanding
Pushing trash like Fred Sanford
Only time you should be feeling
Yourself is for breast cancer
I make you an example and impale
You on the mic stand
I slay rappers at random
They cancer to fucking lifespan
The Dutchmen, spit that fly shit
Design the flight plans
Drinking Jack Daniels
Busting handguns at your hype man
I come from nightmares, created by Wes Craven
While you perpetrating for it
We coming with guns blazin' fuck the law
What's more wake than circuit trainin'?
I'm a fucking cult classic
Amazin's an understatement