Brooklyn Academy - Twisted lyrics

[Intro: Pumpkinhead] Aye, AP, you know what you doing, son? Hide your wallets, n***as. Skeme Team in effect. You heard? Brooklyn Ac', DJ Venom, Block McCloud, Pumpkinhead. Yo, Metaphor, rip that sh** [Verse 1: Mr. Metaphor] I walk the wild sidewalk. You got your head in the sand Pull it out and reach for me with the bread in your hand I'll charge 5 G's a session. I'm the medicine man Injecting Venom in the track, son, I'm deading your clan Whatever the plan, I'm down for [whatever the hand is?] I'll spit a dollar on a track and inherit a grand I'll flip a rapper like a dime bag—for seven a gram And watch it when I grab this ho ‘cause I spread her like jam Brooklon's where I sleep. Brooklon ‘til I die It's where the streets keep watching, won't respond to your cry I'm always looking towards the east like a wandering eye So hold your 40s in the air, spark the traum, and get high When I smoke my last L, I'ma pull up my sleeve Close my eyes, jump off the boat like Sandra Bullock in Speed Tripped up, takping rope, tied up Keanu Reeves Stuff his mouth with a blank and clogged his nose with pennies Take a deep breath, close your eyes, son, inhale I sink all the ships on the streets and set they sail I swallow 50 cops with the mouth of a rail So when they scream, “Thar she blows!” I'm breaking out of this jail [Verse 2: Pumpkinhead] Official Skeme Team member—name printed on my jacket I find your demo at a label in the garbage basket ba*tard, f*g b**h, come out the cabinet [Track theatrics?]. I'll rip a track [‘til the last ditch?] Burn your Versace fabrics in matches and acid Now it's ashes. This is some sad sh** Don't come back for Seven Years like Brad Pitt. And while you gone I'll put your girl on a mattress, smash it for practice Make her slip her back disc. The fact is I got a fat dick and it's covered with your girl's ChapStick Smoke hashes, fell asleep, woke up to a sandwich Soda and chips. The big man on campus Mad sick like bad p**y with crab itch AP cuts so fast, kids, the mixtape come with a bandage What? [Interlude: Block McCloud] Yeah. Yeah, n***as. What? Skeme Team, kid. We coming. Yo [Verse 3: Block McCloud] Block McCloud, I'm designated, the desecrator Stepped on sacred land, left a crater. The wack-from-talent segregator The defecator drop sh** on your record player And 8-piece tape recorder. Heard my joint and laid yours over Yo, you'll pray to Jehovah. My rapping days are over If I ain't rapping, I'm making my quota with coke and baking soda Cueing dirt, the Devil's worst, Satan's soldier Getting chased by jakes over my head like Ray Liotta Yo, I'm the same persona that had your dame bent over Like yoga to clean up the stain on your lady's sofa One night stand, I'm sleeping over, feeding her la vida loca You taste me when you eat her chocha [Outro: [Venom?]] Ayyo, we straight Skeming out this motherf**er. Skeme Team, Brooklyn Ac', Block McCloud, Pumpkinhead, Mr. Met, Venom, [?], [?]. Yo, we got this on lock