| Somnambulistic while, remaining blameless, | |
| Encompassing sounds from the devil's playlist. | |
| Technics would call me a, turntable sadist, | |
| Leave your head feelin' all, cumulus nimbus. | |
| Beatmix your soul, 'till you're cross and faded, | |
| Lost in the breakdown to, feel less jaded, | |
| You spin the tune backwards, to hear what was said. | |
| Voodoo grooves, that will raise the dead. | |
| Crawl into your brain then I cut and paste, | |
| Making beats from your nightmares then we'll turn them into breaks. | |
| We'll make the bassline oscillate... | |
| As we fuel it with your anger and, inject your hate. | |
| We'll extract the essence, of the grimace on your face, | |
| Give it low end theory, to make it sub-bass. | |
| So we leave, and by, weird example, | |
| I'll pillage your village then, loop it as a sample, | |
| Play back your life in a tune, | |
| You'll all be affected 'cause no one's immune. | |
| We're motherfuckin' twisted! | |
| Distort the frequency. |
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