Deadly Impact - Grand Scheme, Vanderslice, The Flying Dutchmen

Yeah, motherfuckers

It’s the Dutchmen, what?

Original soundtrack, the foul weather now or never

Out for cheddar, style is better, sound is clever, Alca-treasure

San Fran, Sandman, Van Damme

Spin kick, when it land, fam?

KO, you can’t stand

Right hook until my hand jam, it’s your last stand

Like custard, musket, trained in the badland

Fuck this, dust spliffs, blaze in my man’s land

Hustlers love this, they say, «That's my damn jam»

Vanderslice you to pieces, you need Jesus

Grab the knife till your spleen splits, my team’s swift

Grammar’s nice, when he spits, the beat kicks

Like Bruce Leroy, B-boy, peep this

The illustrator, kill a stranger in the feel of danger

But still a savior, ill with flavor when I spill and blaze ya

Conceal the razor in my grill until I peel your face up

Run in the bank with a shank, fucker, fill the case up

Lex Starwind, nigga

Foul weather, yo

Foul weather off of the shore, these kids lost in

Diamonds, shining in the maelstrom, they flossin'

Mayflower slave ship, bound to hit Boston

Torch 'em, burn 'em in the flames, it’ll cost 'em

Sodium, Cyanide tablets, broken through the fabric

Of life’s fragile shell till they cracked it

Savage, venom laced tapes, not your average

You faggot, it’s duck season, you silly rabbit

Dutchmen crush men off the shores and never been there

Deep impact, monsoons, so bring your swimwear

Nightmare, three parsecs to your light year

Around the universe and back but still right here

Appear from nowhere, return to the same place

An alternate plain of reality, different space

Where the world line helix, space-time prefix

To your own existence of future, you couldn’t see shit

The Dutchmen

Grand Scheme, yeah

I puff enough dust to bungee jump from a satellite

Reenact the Black Dahlia murder with a rainbow knife

Your mouth scream «gangster» but your outfit scream «hermaphrodite»

I squeeze around your neck till you changing color like traffic lights

I grab the mic, and drop verses so outlandish

You couldn’t scratch the surface of my words with belt sanders

This upstanding, pushing trash like Fred Sanford

Only time you should be feeling yourself is for breast cancer

I make you an example and impale you on the mic stand

I slay rappers at random, they cancer to fucking lifespan

The Dutchmen, spit that fly shit, design the flight plans

Drinking Jack Daniels, busting handguns at your hype man

I come from nightmares, created by Wes Craven

While you perpetrating for it, we coming with guns blazin'

Fuck the law, what’s more wake than circuit trainin'?

I’m a fucking cult classic, amazin’s an understatement