If you got an itch to catch some havoc. There’s mayhem in the plastic. City of La La, I mean the land of holy Zsa Zsa The wood is hot and you can spot the flocks Of people like sheep, those with dredlocks To jocks with Reeboks, fleeing hard rocks A la café, Bambatta flashy fashion. Imagine crashing bashes with bitches That be bad and wishing for the fame And recognition. They’re on a mission for self, baby We’re like the twelve, my tribe is crazy deep. We got the beats that are hot. We’re like clinique. Foundation resonates when I speak. And if by chance, you catch it Then listen, the wisdom Epic, open hitting, choking up. You’ve done it now and woken up. The giant scientist of hits That make you jump like a lunatic On pogo sticks, waving your fists. So, if you’re catching a fit. I don’t really know but you better scram, Hurry in a double. CHORUS: It goes on On and on and on Hell raising Hollywood Welcome to Babylon On and on and on and on The party don’t stop ‘til the Mystery’s gone. I’ve seen it all, I’ll see it again. I shake a lot of hands But I don’t got a lot of friends. It goes on. On and on and on. Hell raising Hollywood, Welcome to Babylon. Live from the city of lights. Sunny days and late nights Dope, designer drugs, porn stars And bar fights. I drop. Makes the bells rock. I’m Mr. Shifty Shellshock Call me the man of the hour In the land of the lost. Taking the money and the power. CXT, we hold our own All eyes on us. Crazy rise rain like brimstone, Kicking up dust. I grab the mic with a firm hold In a world of shattered goals, Pot holes, broke folks and Bank roll. Pole position. Daddy rolling, rolling causing Havoc. So, ready set. I’m more than set Like Morissette, to Maverick Got a, she’s got to have it, habit. Sick, I leave them stuck. I’m getting high for a living, Not giving a fuck. CHORUS I’m screaming out the call of the wild. I’m speaking in tongues. I am the child of the sun. The power of one. I beat the drums Of the Crazy Town click. It’s the third eye sitting on the tip. Of the pyramid flipped. Now I see a little shotty, Illuminatti front. Dead bodies in my trunk. Unraveling the source, I travel into self. You gauge my wage And then you try to debate my wealth. The consequences linger And I’m fingering the perpetrators. Hey yo, my nature was bred On the cross fader. It’s the 7th house. Armageddon trudger. Ready for death, It’s the brimstone slugger. CHORUS