Gas Chamber - Jon Murdock, Lex Starwind, Vanderslice

The Flying motherfucking Dutchmen

Vanderslice, Jon Murdock, Lex Starwind, yo

Bozos, bum MCs and assholes

Wanna park free, send 'em to jail, don’t pass go

Flow hot, jalapeño mean, Tabasco

Storm blocks, El Niño scene for cash blow

Lex Starwind breathes through tropical storm now

Nympho freak beats, poppin' a four pound

Barber on fleek street, choppin' your door down

George Jung, tongue uncut with the raw sound

You could catch me at a party, yo, spittin' sick audio

Fucking bitches in the back, exercise cardio

You never saw me though, bitches sippin' Cosmos

All work at Costco, suck me with they eyes closed

Indeed, if you want, you could call me for weed

Call me for anything you need, sell more speed that Keanu Reeves

Jon Murdock, PCP and the gravity bong

I could tell you that you nice, but that’d be wrong

Through strange days to dark days, I blaze with the lyrical

Take aim and part fades, deranged individual

Same shit that injure you, the same shit could kill ya

Real recognize real, I better look familiar

Beat break, body cast, shattered and bruised

Bet against L Star?

Bet the faggot’ll lose

Listen Vanderslice surgical incision, steady hands

Underground chief rocker, lord of the rings, fam

MC, Jon Murdock, FD

Chain snatch a rapper status off his neck and flee

Come to your show with it on, remember me?

Keep your new shit tucked low, it better be

Dutchmen soarin', neo-knocking, duck the warrant

Fucked with law and Peter, the guns enormous

Einhorn and Finkle, Finkle and Einhorn

Laces out, soccer style, kick it when the rhymes on

I’m looking for Ray Finkle

What do you know about Ray Finkle?

Soccer style kicker, graduated from Collier High June 1976

Stetson University’s Honor Graduate Class of 1980

Holds two NCAA Division I records

One for most points in a season, one for distance

Former nickname «the Mule»

The first and only pro athlete to ever come out of Collier County

And one hell of a model American

Sing a sad song, sour and deep

We’ll roll when Jakes on a stroll, steady pounding the beat

And you bear hugging blocks when you out on the street

Ain’t no slackin' on your rappin', keep them actions discrete

Shit, Rick the Model Martel, arrogance in your face

Back pocket wallet raped, assault and batter your safe

When your doors kicked quick, tripped up carrying weight

On the bus with white ratch, right back, right in they face

Right in they faces, pumpin' the gauges, Dutchmen and Dation

Still they both ill, for real, fuckin' amazin'

Get my Wang Chung on, buggin', clubbin' with Asians

Your RuPaul squad could never fuck with the flavors

Kanye bitch bad but bald like Sigourney Weaver

He got auto-tune corny fever with a horny diva

Fuck around, gun blast, leak forty liters

Buck the pound, run fast, teeter for your speakers

Tommy gun fun, Connie Chung news reportin'

Lohan program, Olsen twins snortin'

Shit, note hit harder than Rocky boxin'

Eighty mills of that Heath Ledger Oxycontin

Hit like Piston Honda, VTEC, my piston’s Honda

While out drunk and pissed in Hondas

Vanderslice chop Benihana’s, flip hibachi

Snitch niggas singing on mics, Liberace

Jon Hefner, rhyme diesel like Brock Lesnar

Smoking jacket, hold the ratchet, sucked in the Cessna

Your flows are average, choke a faggot, slumped on a stretcher

Coke’s a habit, smoke my pack and struck with the heckler

Emo, wacker than Shaq with a free throw

Wacker than Mr. Bentley dancing with CeeLo

Hip-Hop in flip-flops, I laugh at you people

Cats dying, lyrical strength is straight lethal

Mwahahahahaha!

It’s the real Flying Dutchman

You bet your lilly-white livers I’m the Flying Dutchman

And I’ll let ya in on a little secret;

I’m going to steal your soul