VIKITAHN: Somebody stop me!
Vicky B.: Some bodies wish they could
WK: The Wiz Kat VIKITAHN real, huh, real good
MM: YYR, we do that then we do to somethin’
WK: What you might note as Superior-esque [employ delay]
MM: Super-ior breasts, chests, deflect bull-ets
WK: Makin’ ‘em yell for nothin’ “AH-AH!!” (double adlib) Turr-ets
MM: Blast it up on ‘em and let ‘em I’re blastin’
WK: Mega Duece, Big Fau, Call Colonel Dastun (Adlib- “Big O!” from the cartoon)
MM: Ya Sha ja, you know The Mad Man Vick B.
WK: Killin’ they asses in Red Rover, that’s why they pick me
MM: Slice a neck, and turn it to a gizzard, put it in my soup
WK: Girls diggin’ the neck tie-die red red rum in the coupe
MM: One in the hand, two in the chute, shoot you
WK: Bring five a friends to the after party shawty
MM: Low, behold oh no, show no fear
WK: Oh lords knows, VIKITAHN carry the spear (adlib “torch”)
MM: Heyo, can a brotha see some blood right quick
WK: -en-a-slick den a- VIKI-tik-tiken ‘em
MM: I’m mother-flippin’ crazy, if you can’t dig it
WK: Why not just dig a grave, [wacky sound] and put yourself in-it?
MM: Got six feet a’ bull on top, Hop On Pop [epic pop sound]
WK: Send ‘em for a loop, like this beat, watch ‘em power walk
MM: So many Pamper-wearin’ clothes hampers still talkin’ that mess
WK: But they stumble upon VIKITAHN and make a mess in their pants
MM: YYR, that’s why they smell like corpses, dead ones
WK: That’s why Ima heavy weight on the mic, YYR, one tons
MM: Enough, the wack’ll do yah toes in (adlib- “Vicky B.”)
WK: Chosen ones, chosen so few of us, fact
MM: We dat, you not, skat skiddadle you gnat
WK: We carry on like well-stocked games of Beer Pong
MM: Was that really a new dress…aaah no, beer upon.
WK: Yah, yah, yah, blah blah blah
MM: Wamma-slam bamma jammin’ another fat one
WK: Using alien technology, hit ‘em off with the ray gun
MM: Hold that thought…[laser sounds]Ok, fried ‘em
WK: Some jump to the band wagon, I jump to beats and ride ‘em
MM: Some jump to conclusions, I duck the heat and slide ‘em
WK: You and you and your friend come take a closer look
MM: I’ll show you the best recipe for humans in this cook book
WK: Gee Wiz Kat, why can’t we Super Rap like that?
MM: If you say another word kid, I’ll take yah ass to the back.
WK: Come on Mad Man, why don’t you play nice?
MM: Come on VIKITAHN, why don’t you hold this knife? Ha!
WK: I wife the strife, doin’ tricks with what they call life
MM: Floss them teeth S.O.B., here’s some barbed wire
WK: To be the very best there is, that to which I aspire
MM: Suehn suehn suehn, build you a funeral pyre
WK: I’m higher, yes-sire-ee, that’s why these boys settle down
MM: I sew a cow, chicken and a duck in their chest now
WK: Error, does not compute, lame meter’s off the chart
MM: Caught ‘em off guard, now he actin’ all smart
WK: Oh ch’et, flows that’ll break yah neck
MM: First-hand account on account o’ the floor Inspect The Deck
WK: “Are you…?” Nah boa, I ain’t done yet
WK: Doin’ two lines now, I don’t do drugs, trust (adlib: “Trust!” like in the song) I sniff the stuff of life, pixie dust, and break you down to your primary make-up and rust, YYR
MM: My turn burn the mic a bit, I leave yah like a Republican, no benefits for yah kits, I split the wigs and give you the hits you really ain’t askin for…
WK: Four score and seven kat ago, I put yah ass in the catacombs, with my rhymes, I’m dropped nickels and dimes, and nickels, talkin’ back to boys, who suck pickles
MM: It should be fairly obvious
WK: But if it’s not
MM: Recognize that the mic, just got got!