Poisonous Taoist

[Chorus x4: scratched up samples]
"Poisonous taoist!"
"Afu-Ra!"
"The body of the life force!"

[Afu-Ra]
The body of the life force, scientifical street nigga
I walk with a limp, no pimp sign, I'm an urban gorilla
Rough and rugged, plus I keep it realer than realer
Stomp these streets, I'm known as a mic killer
With vintage lines, that vintage rhyme
Black circles around rap camps, I be the lord of the rhyme
Whose the prettiest, baddest, most more, know down
G-O-D, Blackie Chan, watch me shut it down
Incredible, my credit is credibly credible
Put hoes up in the track, like heavy metal do
Cats act up, I hit 'em with the John Woo
Yo, I chop 'em up, hit 'em up, and rip 'em up
The Lion King's in town, boy, it's murder on the sound boy
So line your favorite cottage rappers to sing it
Like Keith Murray; my Def Jams, they will get in ya
I slice and dice my competition like a ninja

[Chorus x2]

[Afu-Ra]
Now let me introduce you, to the man, the myth, the mental
Influential, bi-centinial, lyrical spiritual material
Hittin' you like a literal miracle
Settin' fire to the streets, that's my ritual
Fossils of my rap book, left for anthropoligists
Show 'em how amazing the jazz, I'm blazing the hooks
Heavily heavily, intertwine with the melody
Deadly deadly, kill the tracks with my medly
Give me that mic fool, you only stuntin' and frontin'
Fluffin' and bluffin', and ain't sayin nothing, stop fronting
The way I shoot the gift, I'm sick with this
I make crowds flip, I'm a hip hop therapist
And you can do the hustle, freak ya body, bounce
But I gotta spit fire, so I'm sure to get ya every ounce
I'm worth my weight, and gold and all it's luster
Step up in the place (Woo-Hah) like I'm Busta

[Chorus x4]

[Afu-Ra]
Hold up, wait, the sounds kinda knocking
Dreaded they up in the club, let's get it poppin'
Jolting compositions as if I was a virus
One breathe to raise the dead, those try to ride this
and of course, I take it back to the hood
Afu riggedy Ra, in the hood, raw like a porno is
A wild brother but I dip like a corn fiddle
Trey eight, snubnose, type of flow, get a gun, though
I'm nasty, as we had it with this
I eat rappers, alive, as if my name was Hannibal, kid
Perverted Monk, medicating in the cut
Flying guillotine raps, aiyo, I cut shit up
Masterin' the art, technique dycatomy
Straight up yo, I'm bout to catch a body like Gotti
At home in my zone, who feel the ecstasy
Explicitly, the lyrical telepathy

[Chorus x4]