Fo Chief & Kontrast - Slaughter Music [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

(Fo Chief)
The mental stain, I drain brains through your skully cap
With' a roundtable of heaters that's havin' none of that
Cats that'll collapse ya spinach 'til ya money zapped
We be so thick into rhymes, these boys chubby fat
By no minimal margin either
Chest pumpin' it cold
Dippin' a robe, a frozen drink, sippin' it slow
I am a marksman, artillery kick the cat boom really be sick
The infamous boss in the clique
I am the one chosen, woven
Into a secret society, deadly poets that stay frozen
When I am rappin' they runnin', you rappin' they dozin'
Cause I am clappin' ya focus, you feel like overdosin'
Smashin' these rookie rappers, I'm laughin' how they hold it
You could get caught up backwards and slapped up in a moment
Huntin' with heathen's, using fist packs and bottle caps
Nowadays it seems the hollows make you holler back
But really, it just depends on who you hollerin' at
Ever come outta line at me, then it's all a rap
But I know
Once you heard of me murder a rhyme
The flow is so perverted at times it be burnin' ya eyes
And I'm SICK WIT' IT
H.I.V., boy you know the pen hit it
Admit it, Chief'll spit fire, you know he end wit' it
Yeah, the Chief and 'Trast get you done wit'
Wipin' the floor up with all your corny verses on some fun shit

(Kontrast)
I am the being of believing, preaching proceeding to mean well
You feelin' what I'm seein' like I'm teachin' you to read Braille
And on the deeper end of the scale
Me and my homies dwell embracing a holy grail
Pervasive, but your faces are frail
And any traces of your fails are braided in veils
Escapin' through a gated tale of faded trails
A dose of my rhymes is nastier than post dated ale
In ya post dated mail, so folks play it well and don't miss it
I piss on pissed off cats with fists clenched, a sixth sense
Simplistic misfits get they ribs wrenched affixed whence
A blissful fistful leaves my wrists drenched in fish stench
A dissful missile for you pussies in your filth trench
Spread that wealth like it's funny dude
Your money's where my mouth is
You can take my words with you
Leave you disturbed to get through
A ceiling you can't commit to
Dreamin' perturbed to fit to
A feeling you can't forget too
Fo Chief, where the fuck you at?
(I'm right here)
We need to tear all these suckers back
(They might hear)
A dirtier motto than a waddle to a grotto
Where they wallow in their sorrow and their bottles stay hollow
Where the whores gobble coarse men outside the Apollo
Strike the Lotto when abortion isn't possible to follow
Might afford County Court from the options that they borrow from this sport
(Stay dirty!)
With no remorse for you cowards