Collude/Intrude

Y, JUSTIN INGLETON

featuring J Treds

[announcer]

Mr. Len a.k.a. Space Ghost please commence intro

Company Flow perform J Treds prepare

El P prepare you have approximately five minutes

Fuck the bullshit Time/Warner will fall

Record labels will fall the Earth will crumble

Begin

[El Producto]

Enter the all city access and encounter the likes of these

Regionally no one relaxes actual

No wonder I'ma type to crush contenders with pure chewing satisfaction

Pervade your ultraharmonic with the back of your whole mediocre faction

Sonic boom head zoom contact off antaxion

Elbowed with a vacumn pure death MC's with closed captions

Wind up in the willows, catch the whirling dervish

Or the dead and dumb millennium is at your service

Flow the plaque, instigate lyrics then backfile another MC

who thought cause he was dipped in powder blue that he could rock pastel

Got your hip-hop essence out of the Cross Colours catalog

while I launch technology

Ask L. Ron Hubbard to break down my Scientology

Fuckin up to the chest I bucks the city us Bad Touchin

Boogie to break to bumrushin

Fresh start taming biofeed this track achieves

pain penicilin crack and AZT couldn't relieve

Being Sizzlean I will trim the fat like Susan Powders

Disrespectin burners like cap, lickin off shots from clocktowers

Play ring around the dead nation

The Deadhead situation, situated to see-saw creation

MC's are helpless like Gadzook keep faggot like RuPaul

troop to the new sensation fuck that whole wannabe gangster fascination

The illusion is broke, or cock albums mispoke

And got the El P rookie cards stuck in they bicycle spoke

For those VH-1 crystalized pseudo rip flows

Let the liquid talon soak into the seam of your coat

Meet the professional dead or alive politrick technician

Straight neck capital P for the deep throat dickin

I was that first monkey to touch the Monolith, delinquent

Up in that crack like white squaw for the weekend

and I sunk your Battleship

Parked in a hot zone, live to the E. Bola

Manifest brain tumors through the phone as you roam in your Motorolas

[J-Treds]

All hail, J and El the fan drives, we got the grand prize

Foes fantasize runner up, the closest they can see it because

skills so lenient I've been boastin with half a flow

They can't handle the whole weight son, diagnosis, bullemic believe it

My best line, too advanced for Pop Warner

you got cornered scouting report, can't scramble in the clutch

But when I get down, it's third and inches threatenin to score

How you gonna tackle the topic when you suckers two hand touch it?

We're too damn much for your defense break you down, zone weakens

Words bring embarrassment, Captains look like third string in comparison

to this too well known to kick fat flow

And beat suckers straight up and down, Tic-Tac-Toe

Game over when I blow your mind, but then I aimed over explosive cuts

Verbal flamethrower, serving roasted nuts

as after battle snacks you wish you wore a cup in your panties

So all you pussies in this rap game, time to up the ante

What's your fancy? Big time skills or small penny

Dead to latter my varsity letter, fatter than your JV

Only play with the big boys, toys bringin that weak shit

Before the battle I hit em off with fat, ladies latest release on cassette

They were done from the start

Ran for the finish got detoured from the fast route by another

One spot holder hold ground for our town, N.Y.

For those who don't acknowledge they get left ass out plumbers

[announcer]

Congratulations Len, you have made it halfway

They are falling, their armies are retreating

The job is not over, you must continue, please move forward

El P, bring out tactic evasion, start, summation equals now

Do not fail us, we're counting on you

[El Producto]

For thoughts I see hot like three males with a cot included

Where the Sidewalk Ends and all your linear math gets diluted

Infant when he Star Spangled, packed a brand

circular medicine and deject wreck-the-tangle

Fuck Time/Warner and it's affiliates, for runnin that wannabe Big Willie shit

Leave those fancy clothes up to the Pope

List all personal posessions in your liner note

While I connect wreck genuinely cuttin through these red ropes

Son grip the love spigot, yeah that's the ticket

This platoon pop 99 Luftballons

While the one hit blunder rushes exhaust like city buses

I bond, like resin cause for the sake of skill, lost and found

Found by DNA patterns to wish you could climb

Just a little girl around the way of my set, that's the time

Enter the evil opus, focus on rap scrambling

Record labels to expect not reaction is bad gambling

I know a few true that make we, collusion

El P and J-Treds pentrate cranial intrusion

[J-Treds]

We do this one time so catch it, two of the illest and unsigned

Lethal separate but combined, friction created a frontline a rhyming

Got you steppin, tryin to evade us bustin caps in your thoughts

But now crossfire catching's added to your job skills

top of your resume

Submitted applyin, for lyric positions that we occupied yesterday

but got the pink slip, labels on some not think shit

Requiring, brain absence lobotomy reigns/rains, rapids

That trap gets full, by J and El evasion tactics

Our equations infinite, punks distortin random access

Havin half words recyclin tracks like plastic, please forfeit

Flippin the same script, I hope it has reinforcements, or else

it's torn to pieces while our thesis is untouched

Saved on my PC under the filename of Funcrush

Megabytes bumrush, by one punch, upon my keyboard

My data's the top secret that mad suckers will fiend for

Come from the last to be cut from Dream Team Three

We be the ones who shine, prepare for butt, kickin

Rarely benchwarmin throwin down, all too often

While others barely touch rim and that's when they're butt licking

[announcer]

Done, job well done

They know who we are, they know we know who they are

They will fall, they are going to have to repeat

Understand, they will no longer monopolize

Time/Warner will fall, I'm proud of you, come home

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