Autopsy
Produced by El Nigris for Waterhole Productions
(MoTell- Verse 1)
The enemy, will only see, the darkness,
in his eyes, when I let loose with my surprise...
the steak knife, can cut me, an autopsy,
brings to life the reason why the dead is deceased.
and paper files, they will prove the reason why, niggas die,
an autopsy to the mind,
now dark skinned, 200 plus, lay a label,
to shock the press, and voice alto on disabled.
(DaFool- Verse 2)
I get excited when I see the sight of blood,
call me a villain, don't mistake me for no thug,
the incision is made, I set you up for the gaffle,
cuttin you open from your navel to your Adam's apple,
the scalpel, is in, Fool the man, can't you understand,
blood all over my hands, I'm slicin on a dead man.
I got my M.D., from the streets of E.C.,
twenty-three years in the middle of this killin spree,
my basements a morgue, formaldehyde fills the room,
the coroner's report says you's about to meet your doom,
so MoTell, (uh huh), it's all about the Block you see,
show these bustaz how you do it on the autopsy
(MoTell-Verse 3)
The cut, and then the sew, just like the stitch,
an autopsy, dissects the body, carbon copy.
when Peter Piper picked peppers, you know he's particular,
he punishes punks thinking rule... floating in a pool.
I like to do the same thing,
slice the biceps, to get a closer look at the bone and triceps.
and feel the heat of a doc breathing down your throat,
hoping he not poking when the cigarette's choking.
I wear a white coat with a scalpel, scalp `em, scrape `em, scrap `em,
garbage bag, then decap `em.
(Chorus (4 times))
Put em in a coma, smell the aroma.
I wear a white coat, with a scalpel,
scalp `em, scrape `em, scrap `em,
(DaFool- Verse 4)
No anesthesia needed, (why), `cause I'm weeded,
comin like a thief in the night to steal you life,
instead of the gloc, you got a date with the knife,
cuttin up shit like that Thursday in November,
and like O.J., cause I really can't remember,
what took place, or what went down,
and your neighbors claimin that they didn't hear a sound,
and my conscience aint botherin me,
cause I'm a nigga from E.C. and ^%@# don't phase me,
cause I dun seen it all, watch #$@!&^%$ fall,
me and flippedfacetwoface performing that autopsy yaw
(MoTell- Verse 5)
Now I'm the killer in the whole story,
follow the plot, no glocs or no guns pops,
an old war, like the Hatfields and the McCoys.
It's MoTell the Mental Block's strangest boy.
Cause I'm the flippedfacetwofacemr.hysterical,
cuttin up bodies pouring milk eating cereal,
all my life, I wanted to be an M.D.
the law pro(hi)bit, no study, no doctor's degree,
unbelievable! I had practice,
surgically removing peoples spleens, cutting cactus,
I'm ol' tell about the powers I got,
how I killed a man and then brought `em back on the block.
(MoTell- Verse 6)
This man is gone... I couldn't do nothing to bring em back
I did so many now I'm done...
Now their's a body out here floating in the river,
I did so many autopsies I don't even remember
how I killed `em, the family knew I did though.
"#$%@ that kaffa, bring em back or I'll slice your throat,"
I checked the corps, I guess I punctured his heart,
and I couldn't bring em back so I had to be smart,
got in position, stayed calm, I was fiendin
this man is gone... I couldn't do nothing to patch the bleeding.
I got myself in a jam and couldn't get out,
as Mr. Hatfield stuck his rifle in my mouth,
he pulled the trigga, boom not pop, I felt the stop, then I dropped,
now I need an autopsy to myself...
(Chorus (4 times))
Garbage bag and decap `em
(Chorus (4 times))
Flatline