"The Virus" lyrics - TECH N9NE

Hits ya harder than thorozine shock,
With a bit of that knock,
Indeed, ya caca bean,
Tech gonna eat you and your hits with some motherfuckin' fava beans.

Running them away like Tyrus,
Straight gang nigga like Cyrus,
No shyness,
In my iris,
Got me a generation hemmed up with the virus.
Infectious;
While even rollin' in your Lexus,
G clear the hexes,
Creeps me from here to Texas.
Let's get deep,
Into the pavement.
I be the topic,
Ultramicroscopic.
Infected agent,
No,
Vaccination rapidol,
Make that information attachable,
Leaving, spreading throughout the nations capitol.
Yes douse mate,
House gate,
Stout they,
And about-face,
Can't save you from this motherfucking outbreak.
The Virus!
Infects k-i-ds,
Rounds twos and threes,
All the way up to OGs,
With alzheimers disease.
See Dolores tried fumigation,
But we don't need no medication
For the sensation,
Just the marijuana lacin'.
Let the music take your mind,
Press rewind,
The venom is in em,
The tecca nine,
Combined.
Let my virus up in you,
I love fiends,
So open up your pores for daddy,
And let me swim through your blood stream.

We don't need no medication.

You can buy this,
Virus,
Come and try this.
Killa style y'all,
Hits ya like some motherfucking malthol [?].

We don't need your drugs at all.

Send it to you ooze,
Stronger than bo-oze,
Pick and cho-ose,
Whatever mo-oves, you
Junkie ooh-ooh,
Whatcha gonna do-ooh-ooh?

Nigga you puffin marijuana,
Me puffin marijuana,
When peepin' the futuristic,
Balastic,
Brain drama.
Hella contagious,
You been fair-warned,
I got a gang of radio stations makin' me airborne.
No allemia,
Lukemia,
Nor sickle-cell anemia.
My virus may 'cause encephalitis,
But it may 'cause pantie-screamia,
Make 'em wanna give up the virginia,
Tecca nin-ya plus ya blood stream,
And ya equals no to me,
Needy greedy,
But a large amount of you luchinia [?],
I'm spreadin' shit that will get you exile,
Project our styles,
Up in the generation X-Files,
Lets prowl,
Through ho's drawls,
I told y'all,
I'm makin' Rogue Dog,
Sha booya sha booya,
Roll call.
Bizarre flows.
B-r-os.
Bar codes.
Sick individuals that god see and lord knows;
They stay by me,
'Cause my virus a'int a fake I.D.,
Snake I be,
With venom,
A'int no curing like HIV.

Futuristic,
Battlestar Gallactica-corruptage in this,
Suffer Luciferistically,
For the busters who fucking wit this.
Who said,
I'll awaken the dead?
Told me that I would spread like a plague.
Arm, leg, leg, arm, head.
Infecting you in 2 k,
The year god conquered the Virus,
But true they,
Injected fuck-up in ya,
No matter what who say,
Spreadin hella fast,
Kickin ass like Juve.
Let's party nigga.
Ladies lift your dress,
This New World rapper got you flashin,
Showin' my bar code on your breast.
Science will keep it going when I'm gone.
Cheap in '97 but in 90 Nina Tecca N9ne clones,
Hopefully,
Obie-Wan Kenobi will help me spread it,
Out your sockets,
Into your fiber optics.
Mr. Rresident,
Look around,
I got a sea of anarchists to shut this motherfucker down.
The Virus!

So what's it gonna be?
So what's it gonna be?
Nigga, so what's it gonna be?
You gonna take the sixty-six, triple-eight, forty-six, ninety-nine, three.
So what's it gonna be?
Nigga, tell me what's it gonna be?
So what's it gonna be?
You're gonna come with me,
And take the sixty-six, triple-eight, forty-six, ninenty-nine, three.