Lyrics
Yo, Marco turn my head… what the hell?!?
Yo, the beat’s backwards, dawg
Marco, put down that cigarette, man
Put it forwards, let’s go Aight, that’s what I’m talkin' about—yeah
Uh-huh, it’s Pumpkinhead
Marco Polo on the beat
En garde, draw your weapon, put it to a test
I’m a swordfish that’ll carve a P in your chest
I shit on rookies and pee on the best
Do it to Def like Mos did, when he had no kids
And I refuse to lose my hunger, I’ll eat 'til I get so big
It’ll look like I got no ribs
I’m not scurred of these thugs that bust blank shots like they don’t jizz
Fo' shizz, half of you asswipes don’t know what dope is Here’s the prime example, exhibit A I collide a candle just by rhymin' at you, so I spit away
Spit split wigs—not a barber but I give a fade like scissor blades
Lyrics spray and ricochet off your frickin' face
I’m in the place like I just got reprimanded
So strong—when I give pounds, dudes get mad cause I’m heavy handed
This is high-powered, full voltage, tilt the meter
From a swordfish that’ll poke a hole in your speaker
Can you catch it? Got it, caught it. Can you spit it hot, retarded?
Can you flip it back and forth, rip a track in half and toss it?
Do it 'til there’s no one left, from the stage to the office
You a guppy in hot water, duelin' with a pair of swordfish
My introduction to this game was on an independent
And I rocked shows even with 20 people in attendance
I’m the truest essence of a secret weapon
I can freak a sentence with a speech impediment and still teach a lesson
Third album, so this just might be the charm
Timed out songs, so it just might be the bomb
Matter of fact, I’mma stop spittin' ‘cause I got the title
Now introducin' to you the big homey Archrival
I’m 'bout to take like a stick-up the fame
From these lames that bitch up, disdained
‘Cause the way they spit sucks
It ain’t Rival’s blame—they mixed up
I’m changin' the game from this juncture
Claimin' this lane when piss drunk
Afraid to be strange ‘cause it’s just
Insane to be brave in scriptures
Shit, man. I dare you to picture me bein' plain
When I spit the deranged
Phrases, I think of serrated aimings that hit ya To maim and aid in ya disappearance
You claim you don’t miss but plain as day
Is they’ll miss ya before your grave can be filled up But pal it ain’t gonna fit ya. Trust and believe
I treat the studio like I treat your girl, I bust and I leave
It’s a must that I lead, it’s somethin' to see I’m destructin' the feed
Of every radio station that’s corruptin' the seeds
I’mma cut 'til they bleed, make 'em suffer a slow death
And leave 'em questionin' how I can spit half a verse in a breath
A deity in the flesh. You seein' me is a less
Than probable episode. I’m sick of bein' the best
Can you catch it? Got it, caught it. Can you spit it hot, retarded?
Can you flip it back and forth, rip a track in half and toss it?
Do it 'til there’s no one left, from the stage to the office
You a guppy in hot water, duelin' with a pair of swordfish
Yeah, it’s Pumpkinhead
Archrival, Marco Polo
On this fire beat. Yo Marco, man, this beat is crazy
I don’t think heads out there is ready…
Yo Marco, man. See, I’m just
I’m, I’m tryin' to give you a compliment
And you gon' put the beat backwards again
You see, you play too much man. You Canadians, dammit
Go to the next track…
