Verse One
The Bic flicks and I'm rushin
An arsonist baskin in the blaze of it askin
For more accelerant to be markin, your perimiter I'm half halfin
Fertilizer with motor oil as I'm laughin
Spent nights craftin and sortin attacks
From paper cuts on your eyes to waterboarding with hot wax
Distortin order like wet sacks on heads, strapped to the back of a ute
And dragged face down, enough said
Deliberated my options, and chose a baptism of fire hitched with a lock in
Now ya just a moth to the flame on top of nothin
Checkmate, a pawn to this game
You know this emcee aint bluffin
I'm galvanizin and systematically risin
Devisin these rhymes for tyrants, keen to admire'm
And as for enemies, I only seek to remind'em
To quit preachin in vain for what history aint decided yet.

Hook

Verse Two
It's game day so now I wake up get packed
All preps were made for clandestine planned attack
Infiltrate the back, threads in the kevlar braids
Unpack katana blades with more folds than center stage
I took a page from Sun Tzu's the Art of War
And rolled a scoob with it to calm the nerves before the score
Of twenty more, with shrapnel cores packed into this rucksack
This fuck sat within the eye of the storm
Anticipate and now prepare for revenge, and just admit there's no fair war and no real end
A moot point to defend, Oz Hip Hop can do this properly
Crank the shuffle up as I pump Strut's Monopoly
Foresee it like prophecy, forged through animosity
And brandishing a rusty stanley, now there's no stoppin me
I made a choice to see this shit through
You know that history's inked and I'm about to pen a page or two

Hook

Verse Three
There aint nothin a bag of lime can't cover up
Pullin the teeth of this fuck, coroner's passin the buck
Vulcanised, incased in black embers stuck
This waste of space did well for once and warmed us up
No face, or DNA to leave trace
I leave the scene in high pace, with even scores to replace
The tipped scales of the past, this emcee's mastered the craft of burnin toys till they're charred
Now who's havin the last laugh
So that's the facts of it, press this shit on wax with it
To cover up my tracks with the sounds of CD stacks
And it's part of the game, and one of the many ways
That I can re-enact a scene from track five on Gory Days
I'm blazed in sordid haze, I'm dazed I board the train
As I'm layin out some stains and I sail to Alamein
And that's the way that it goes, premeditated
I burn you, you mother fucker so now you are just cremated