- Sven: solo operation, one man jihad formation, no need for others is our final destination. we work and barter, resulting in slaughter, no-one receiving that lost communication.
- Rapoza: past bent, sven got the tracks lent, vagues stitchin' alliances that smash past the fence, rhyme for the presents, or even the past tense, prehistoric armagedon beats blast in that last tent
- Bowlhead: i'm next, blades i invent, shades where the burnt sunbathers bask and pray, bowlhead demands a molasses race, a rabid rabies rabbits fate, never on the main stage, kinda hover over the exit wasted, avoiding situations like the station because i'm blazin, nap all day because i'm patient, eyes wide gazing on the latent, i'm always on the block never even seen my spaceship
- Ronin: Put yo dick right through these corpses, strange nocturnal creature shadows creep from every orifice blood dripping need more of it, R-O on that savage shit, stainless steel through the neck oops morbid battle accident, blade sharpened lemme take a stab at it, waiting for the angel dust to settle, fuck the Avengers Gunk Death Squad ASSEMBLE
- Space God: ASSEMBLE, please! we THE mighty MCs, making pre teens g's scream and cream their jeans. Move so quick we a sight unseen. Somewhere in between mere mortals and mighty supreme, but not me, supreme space god on the scene. Space God, Bowl Head. Ra'z, Sven, Rapoza. They know us for our flow, cuz wherever we go, we drop bombs, fuck ya moms, and ya sister too. Cuz when GUNK rolls through, you wont know what we'll do.
- Rapoza: too choice for words, the imitations slur, they battle rap, we scatter crap from the street to curb, unite in oddly numbers result in foggy slumber, amongst the concrete jungles against all odds- in search of lumber, may we plunder from down underground or would that be a blunder, informed of peripheral sights to avoid the gunk-less hunters
- Ryan: they got bleach on their spray, they wash the windows and vacate, dislike disgust mistrust misunderstood discussed keep dust, still stuck under the rug, under nice shoes or the back of a head, during the nice dream, jungles bred large insec...ts mandibles to protect with no brain matter to pro ject, hunt as they may, I march the eighteenth, too cheap for a box seat mostly I just box seat, fully complete as others chase basketballs into the street, I'm D Millz right arm so i guess i bring the meat, got my mother's laser beams so sometimes I melt peace, even if we weren't playing for keeps, wake up in a pile of cloned versions of me, all dead but they heatseek
- Sven: were the black soul'd gunk, purveyors of fine junk, climbing up trash mountain, who'd ave thunk. we jam and slam, the volume gettin' us banned, bustin' off the scene in lindseys dyke van. attacking all fronts, smashing tv's and harpooning fat cunts. you get what you ask for, i offer no metaphors, forever and always a master of blunt. the best, the worst, the flawed and gifted, pedal to the floor; never lifted. full speed ahead, we might as well, you cant kill whats already dead. 'where the white bitches at?' we yell, an infection to be spread. amorphous and growings mul...tiple heads, we find the white bitches legs already spread waiting to the bred. a gunk militia, swagged like politicians, our propaganda flows from the mouths of these hoes, lending credit to our mission.
- Ryan: gunked out put the trunk down, or duck down if we're in lindseys truck now, cops prowl we aint low sound in fact we growl, fuck clowns who won't bow, rusty robots in supposed rough towns they can imagine my eyebrows, toast to wealth health ...and Mel, guys lets just kill ourselves...in public crumpling brown bags, talking smack like our mouths a hand that pimp slaps, had that yckwad swag when people called it badbadbad, even when i'm alone i still got chazz, riding life's waves and wearing propeller caps
- Space God: facts out, we the blacked out, gunk soul, killing you in a death roll, slayin even the best trolls. FUCK FLAPS, bitch went across half the map, probably never come back, and thats okay with me, sittin pretty, bout to go on a murder spree, eating sprees, watching glee, with my b, bout to give her the d, cuz im so iced out mr. freeze bowed in front of me. space is cold and dead and that's what you're about to be. OH WAIT, you cant kill whats already dead, ONLY TO LIVE AGAIN. Or die, and at your funeral i'll cry, cuz you were such a nice guy. The NICE day. Don't wanna hear what your gonna say, on your death bed, lying there with no friends. Its bowl head, coming back for the end.
- Rapoza: Propellar coptic spinnin copped it, sacs of greens and spots hit, caps of golden vision past the fence we dun hopped it, flow through spots like eggers pahk cops roll up dont give a fahk with 4ty ownzes in the tuck no need to duck municiply prowl in route to muck
- Sven: it was all a scheme, gotta git da skrilla, gotta make that cream. Only to die again, make them hoes cry and then, were back with more gunk memes. Ronin dies in the dreams and bowlhead causing the scenes. the worst mcs, we be sailing the sea...s and smashing four-tees, eggars park is where i wants to be's. either that or our gunk haus in hell, the shangri-la we can practically smell. only time will tell if this operation will bear fruits to sell.
- Bowlhead: got a bad itch on the bench here, swinging on the whole set standing on my neckhair, when i die bury my heart in edgars park, my eyes in the empty lot, my mind rot in the street for the shock, that orange car is never going to start, holdin...g people with big eyes bug eyes no spines ivan slide in, ike with the open mic, billy hayes dropping "cold as ice", blly hayes with the natty ice, shit all over a crappy night, sappy knight rap in fright not stage fright but benjamin franklin fright like what i'm saying might get zapped like kites, from god almight, invisible but i see him occasionally blasted on psychs, a trifector pitchfork of fuck yourself superglued to trikes, be kind to each other, rewind each other, take the time to remind why we find another, rhyme and divine is each line like the custard, egg could be flying but you wipe it from your eyes, the mustard seed must've believed enough to relish the desert cheesed based, like the god with the cheese, 100 on my dick because i look like the breeze
- Rapoza: A whole track effortlessly concieved without contact 3rd visually, muy facil so easy to see, this is crumb cake in that its nada to digest, the power in the form of essense the finest, the slyest styles congregate in the minds of the heads within my nest, to break through obstacles of most high crest
- Ronin: They could try and catch up a thousand years never reach that Gunk quota, bitches hate me fuck fame plus the money ain't the motive, ask me why it's shits and giggles cats and dogs never the drizzles, I am the fuckin night tryna deduce answ...ers Riddler's riddles, colorful like a bag of skittles, on that YCKWAD swag choppin up the bodies of Chad Brad Dad ain't life a fuckin drag nah this shit is fuckin rad as i'm locked in the lab, emcees last about as long as a season MFTS is no fad, off the top killing everybody can't tell ya how good the shit feels standing atop a fucking rooftop hollering rest in pieces to nic beals.
- Space God: And like Thor I bring down the hammer, and Gunk we bring the calami, tee, Jane. We stay insane. No death in vain. For if you die for the G U N K, you get saved. By the supreme being space god, got more bitches than based god, and more bitches than you. tryna sit all cool, but you ain't got the JUICE. BOW BOW BOW BOW COOK CHEF CHOP SWAG. Swag.... swag......swag.
- Space God: SWAAAAAAAAAG. EATING CHIPS, QUESO DIP. Honey dip, suck my dick, suck my balls, TAKE me to the fucking mall, clean from the windows to the wall, while i'm skating city hall. BOW. Punch a bitch in the mouf, then you get that fucking mouf, WOOPs you can't. YOU DON'T LIVE THAT FUCKING LIFE, GUNK BOYZ LIFE THAT FUCKING LIFE. FUCK YOUR DAUGHTER AND YOUR WIFE. CUT YOU WITH OUR BLACK GUNK KNIVES. COOK YOU UP WITH SUGAR AND SPICE. Oops forgot that something nice. You won't be a power puff, I WONT STOP, CAN'T GET ENOUGH.
- Sven: do it for myself imma suicide bomba, make the room somber, the gunkiest clan on earth, from now until rebirth, we bring the ruckus and the the fools try to fuck us.
- Rapoza: Getcha ups.
I missed most of the recording session because I cleaned my kitchen for my mom. Reorganized everything and shit. This is the result.
But I got back for the end of the session.
Recorded a song with Ronin.
Now recording Ra’s.
Ryan is producing.
Ra’s thinks Ronin is a faggot and a coward.