Some for the content, all for deliverynPick apart a rapper Vic'll heart attack'em visiblynSerious as serious does, collect the wisdomnRushed over to Premier for the ExorcismnSpeak your mind, if it gets too scientificnI'm a flying discus over ya hat, an' iron fist to colab'nThe kind of fix only to keep 'em coming backnslammin the MP will have 'em comin at, yeahnThey wanna know whatchya name, where ya come fromnWhat's the game plan, same path for the lump sumndrink ya Long Island, gunnin' for the mass appealnbig sword, only half a shield catch ya nVic arise wit'out breakin stridenwithout miss or taken liesnsee I did it for years & years, keep a place insidenTo the game that ya'll patronizenWho ya facin? I, V-I-C, mindstate blown apartnMy pen hits the canvas to brandish you open heartsnStill we building, keep the streets lateralnPrem' brought it outta me, now I'll bring it outta younthe exorcist...nn[Primo]nscratches: It's the real ill microphone inventor!nPass me the mic, guaranteed I'll rock it.nnUh, I pay the charge like I'm Tony Ducks, it's only usnThe power, the dollar, what holds me upnLike a coward's revolver you fold under pressurenMarciano punch-lines I throw in ta test ya chinnWaiting ta be blessed againnThe exorcist melt tracks down & necks'll spin, uhnwhy you flow so fly, show both sidesndisrespectin' the game and I don't - know - whynSomethin' you don't wanna battle withnniggaz on the hackler shit, changin the rulesnI'm the catalyst whose embarassmentnkick a rhyme for usnI do it for gun, hooptys '89 TaurusnThere you go, here I come, feared by somenSpittin fire, sear my tongue, hit by drunknLike I haven't hit puberty, how clear I comenthe Radicals, Little Vic, Primo, draw it outta younThe Exorcistnn[Primo]nscratches: It's the real ill microphone inventor!nPass me the mic, guaranteed I'll rock it.nnLord, Jesus save us from the fires of hellnSave us from all our desires as wellnCause I ain't tryin' ta get popped or die in a cellnI'm not tryin ta keep options for clenteln'cause these streets kept me locked without applyin helpnYoungens lookin up to me I'm, I rock Orion's BeltnThey said the psycho's diary might inspire menHe use his own sick words to fight anxiety, yeahnBut you have no clue what it's like inside of menLookin for a way out an' it's frightenin, I agreenCome one, come all flood the battle cruisenPrem' brought it outta me now I'll bring it outta younThe Exorcist...nn[Primo]nscratches: It's the real ill microphone inventor!nPass me the mic, guaranteed I'll rock it.n