featuring 50 Grand Ron Jay



Intro:

You better recognize what. Snatchh your fuckin' head from your neck. Word

up it's the cold blooded sin. Strickly murder. Legion of Doom 94. Word 'em

up this is how we do that shit. Techs to your record son. Shit. Fuck that

shit. Word 'em up that how we're always been.



50 Grand:

Yo check it I feel the vibe like Shanet

Collaborate on niggas brains and bend you ass like a Sinse'

My death sentense is danger

I black out like Joe Ripken niggas hittin' the floor like the chamber

The sick authorist transmits for no repent

And activate the plan the Pentagon inelligents

So listen close like musical chairs

The L.O.D. is deep then the niggas Under The Stairs

I crack million dollar script like an archetict

And execute like the chair when I inflict death

I got the creepiest slang in this galaxy

And wreck the industry so mysteriously

Coming with the funk from beneath I creep straight for juggelars

And twist rap caps for all you motherfuckers

Walk the bloody streets with 19 shots in the lueger

Niggas be scared to face 50 Grand like Medusa

The shit I produce is like gin and juice when it blend

Scenes from Toni Braxton you'll Never Breath Again

I rhyme without ability to reason, niggas is guilty of treason

Who's to blame but the Legion to the Doom



Hook:

With punk niggas we got beef so

(L.O.D. about to take it to the streets)

On the mic we definatly got beats so

(L.O.D. about to take it to the streets)



Ron Jay:

Roy Jay go the wickedest mystic magestic flow

From a homicidal clique, Yo E make that psycopathic mix

I hits for the hecks or the shit that causes conflict in the script

Beeotch my style set on fire to touch Venus

My soul seeks the universe while I'm sleepin'

I'm creepin' makin' myself develop with the chronic

Electronic Million Dollar Man the mic bionic

So you can feel it in your nerves when I blast off into the suburbs

Conduct like ? with electrofying words

I freak to them suicidal tracks break backs

Niggas scarred fakin' fuckin' heart atttacks

Oooh when I'm comin' through the crowd

Niggas want static yo I got the gun pazoow, wizoow, word up



50 Grand:

I got the slaughter for your brains drive you insain

Fuck that shit



News Interlude



Keith Murray:

The moderation incobation of my creation

Is instantaniously with my vocabulation accumulation

Trust me as I bust thee, lyrical homicidal shit from Keith Murray

If I had 24 hours to live and one wish

I wouldn't wish for no damn lifesavers

I'd start going wild like Larry Davis

The funk speach vigalante from the L.O.D.

Gets funky freakly and freaky fluently

And deep as Greek mythology on level Z

Theres six million ways to die

And eight million stories in the naked city and all them shits are lies

So I keep my wittiest ironist hidious

Psychosis bloodiest flow decitious

Comin' from out this orbit deep space 9's wiggle my shit

Meltin' crew down like synthetic acid

Come half steppin' fession' through a section

And get the midsection of your brain drain

With mad man expression, no quesion and no second guessin'



Outro:

Yo 40 dreams and blunts for witches. Yeah that's what we got for them

niggas. Yo lets get on it get off it. L.O.D. we won't forfit.

A-yo check it out. L.O.D. is the niggas man. A-yo put your money where your

mouth is at nigga yeah. I have you rockin' dazie dukes and Reebok pumps

nigga yeah, yeah. L.O.D. style for 94 yeah and it's on