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As in, "I never had any intention of recording lyrics to pt. I, and yet I always knew it would be on the album..."
After mathematics, what's left?
A great thought trapped in your neck
While you gasping for breath
Catch a flying Papermate pen-stab to the chest
I line up MC's from the last to the best
Then I blast anyone who ain't mad and obsessed
With this rap shit, laugh then I ask who's next?
When I lash out, rhymes got panache and finesse
Get your cash out, looks like it's time to take the trash out
Bring a girl on stage, make her stick her ass out
Get her back home, play Dreamcast and pass out
Stay out the left lane, I'm tryina take the fast route
To bitches, success, fame, and cash and you're gassed off of methane
My shit burns fast-- HI OCTANE
Only takes a second to recognize I got game
The conductor, motherfuckers get off my thought train
7vT Bayowolf got the spot slain