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Album: Track 9 on Wicket World Wide.Com
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(Verse 1: Masta Mind)
More fear than the Y2k bug got Slugs for thugs
Those who dont believe their grave's been dug
Fuck rap, so high-tech I come through yo phone jack
to attack and molest the track, cuz i got the habit
Infectin yo system, yo program won't run
I'm fuckin up your chip, taking over your modem
Deleting your files, your memories been erased
And the wicket shit you bite leaves a bitter taste
In your mouth, screens blacking out. your monitor won't show, systems
overload, your head's about to blow
Even the scoe when you believe in the flow
And once you click the icon, i'ma take you beyond
(verse 2: Masta Mind)
All up in your face controllin your cyber space
The way i see the hard drive crash the inner-face
Never replace the one that'll win the race
And i never smoke on a blunt that you finna lace
My technology be to futuristic for you to see
To do this we glide through the galaxy
Galactic tactics cause classic ass kicks
Watch out for the venom I spit, it's straight acid
Disconnect your internet, lets bet, electric shock you like your t.v.
set when it's wet
The only thing these motherfucking niggas respect
Is the fire jumpin all up out the hole of the tech
And it's cyberkill!
(verse 3: Masta Mind)
Who I be?
The rooga shoota
Virus in your computa
Air wave polluta
Wicket shit distibuta
Make you wanna do tha
Shit that i did from here to bramuda
Bitches always runnin up talkin bout you tha
Nigga Ahead of Time And Space, underground rula
Collumbine, trench coat mafia schoola
Fresher than a frozen freon out tha coola
What's up wootay, wanna walk you a rula?
I keep the bandoola on my face with tha toola
I never sniff the snow, cause i aint no foola
And if you black, actin italian, you zamoolia
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