"I Am Going to Destroy You"



Let’s go I’m hard headed like Destro
Set to knock the tribal arm band tat off your best bro
You’re next though, so best believe you me
When I swear to god like I was Winton Dupree
My name is Johnny Wock and I could spout for days
I keep it dignified like Lord Alfred Hayes
I made the scene, but when I hooked up TiVo
I decided that I’m through being cool like Devo
So I divide my time between the TV I’m watching
And spending nights online clockin’ sneakers in auctions
But that’s the life of BTB I guess
On the couch, obese feline on my chest
I don’t obsess and stress, I’m still calm and collected
Spending time with these rhymes that have gone neglected
I abuse the text, so we’ll see who’s next
To get their set wrecked from my side suplex

Johnny Wockenfuss, I got a job to do
Already got you choking, yeah you’re turning blue

Words so fluid you should hook up an IV
Fill you full of needles till you look like a pine tree
A mainline, or just a trick and a ploy
To get you jonesin’ for more like Mark Renton and Sick Boy
I pass the pill because I’m playing the point
With a pedal to the metal like I’m AJ Foyt
So while my skills are quick and my words are wily
You keep playing the dumb guy like John C Reilly
When the weekend comes, I make a pot of coffee
Kick back and watch Big Daddy Kane in Posse
Write rhymes so fat they’ll have you trying Fen-phen
You better dream on like you were Brian Benben
You get no reception like a broken tuner
Rhymes so recycled they’re labeled post-consumer
You can’t compete, my words slick like Brylcreem
And I take it to the limit like a lyrical kill screen

Johnny Wockenfuss, I got a job to do
And I got the gumption so I’ll see it through

Sticks Downey, with no plans to stop yet
Bass drum kicks, it makes it stick like Aqua Net
Cinched up like a guy in a tight suit
And I got more beets than my man Dwight Schrute
It’s quite moot ‘Cause while you’re humming your next hook
I’m kicking out words like I punted a textbook
I’m not saying I’m a Mensa member
But if my head cocks back like a Pez dispenser
Hold out your hands I’m dispersing the sweet stuff
Words so rough they’ll leave your eardrums scuffed
So yo check this-you look smart so you know
I’m serving MCs like I was Artie Bucco
Sticks is it, and yeah I’m making that known
Wits so quick my brain strains my backbone
I keep coming back like Moises Alou
We’re the chosen few and I’m destroying you

Johnny Wockenfuss, I got a job to do
Search your feelings, you know it to be true