Order & Chaos (feat. Ill Bill)

He was the middle son of three children, lived in my building

He went to Tildon, quiet cat, always kept to himself

He never chilled with anybody but his girlfriend, drove an '82 Whirlwind

Homie's grades in school was perfect

Honour student with a talent for mathematics

Used to design computer graphics in class instead of doodling

I would write rhymes, smoke blunts on the bench at night time

While he was doing his homework and watching Nightline

Looking over MIT brochures,

Invitations to the Pentagon from headhunters of course

I heard that NASA was inquiring about his status

He was about to be a rookie in the NBA of mathematics

A rock star, most astronauts first round draft pick

Amongst physicists and cancer doctors

Then the CIA recruited him to be a shooter

I set him up so that Diabolic could shoot him

We planned assassination plots, lasers attached to gats that pop

Finely glued to the top of the barrel, the average shot

Could take two people's heads off simultaneously

Aiming at cranium spraying them in the coffin displaying them

This that shoot you in the face movement

Bill and Diabolic is like Schwarzenegger and Stallone in the same movie

I'm like Bronson in the Violent City

Freedom fighter like Mumia, kill cops in Philly, listen.

Duce a little anarchy. Upset the established order and everything becomes chaos.

I'm an agent of chaos. Oh, and you know the thing about chaos?

It's fair.

It was a quarter past eight o'clock,

Bill called me and he named the spot

This vacant lot around the way from the bagel shop

He schooled me to exactly how the CIA would plot

To make hip hop's value nothing more than a Jacob watch

Illustrated by what's built with ancient blocks

And the all-seeing eye through Jay's hand that portrays the Roc

Not to worry, I had Engineer pay the cops

So they would not respond to the calls about a fatal shot

I later topped this roof viewing through a sniper scope

What I like to call a future murder scene with righteous hope

About to light a smoke when two headlights approached

Rifle smoke strikes when they touch ground like lightning bolts

Twice the volts in the same spot amazingly

It's two birds, one stone, met his partner from the agency

Was ex-KGB, defected through the State Department

Wanted by authorities for treason, he's been made a target

Took my position with this loaded rifle, aimed and sparked it

A single shot killed them both, blood stained their garments

Guess all the CIA and NASA training in innate matter

When his brains splattered on the pavement as his face shattered

The day after is used to cover tracks and lock the fortress

Shot up sources and disposed of all their rotting corpses

I know it's stunning, we ain't running like some track stars

We chill with bodies buried in Uncle Howie's backyard.