Artist: The Reverend William Burk f/ Shaki Album: Insurrection Song: In My Head Typed by: King Kane [Chorus: Shaki] Let me see the microphone, I've got something to say I've been thinking these crazy thoughts all day This is how I feel, and it really needs to be said This is what goes on inside of my head [The Reverend William Burk] Yo, it's the brother with the rhymes better known as Burk You can catch me in the studio puttin' in work MCs fallin' off the map when I kick the earth Get slick if you rollin' in the back of a hearse Brothers gettin' played like Jesse's wife Pay attention, I'mma teach y'all the facts of life Protect ya neck before I give it a slice And you can't drink Cris' and you can't wear ice Beats made of fire, touch and get burned Rhymes slick like an Al Sharpton perm To get the club jumpin' you play this song All night long, free drinks for women in thongs My style's guaranteed to get you high like weed Lyrics so sharp, make your eardrums bleed If you down with me, then let's proceed And if you're a dime piece, let me plant my seed [Chorus] [The Reverend William Burk] Yo, you know the name is B-U-R-K Drop the bomb like Timothy McVeigh Child is destiny for me to hit Beyoncé Tara caught me cheatin' with Sade Never feel guilty, never feel filthy Play around wit' me and get slapped silly My sound's so underground that it's hellbound Angels, devils and demons feel me We're 'bout to rock on and make you work Better respect this like you're in the church A lot of rapper's bite, remember where you heard it first Dirty verse, spit the nasty verse If you wanna battle me, you better rehearse I give you bad luck like a family curse 'Cause one against this is such a death wish Like burnin', drownin' or torture, what's worse? I'm in it to win it, dun, I gotta be the best Like a fat chick in a eatin' contest Milk the game until it ain't nuttin' left I'm still in hip hop, gettin' charged with death We rollin' through like wheelchairs do Battle anybody in your whole damn crew Make 'em all holla like DJ Clue They run faster than Flow Joe when I'm comin' through [Chorus] [The Reverend William Burk] Yo, let the hell out the gates with originality Bustin' gun shots, turnin' cats to casualties I wished the government would stop attackin' me Can't walk down the streets without the cops harassin' me These days you gotta pay the DJ Just to get your song on a list that he play But I still make cuts hot as heat waves I get the club crunk, so forget what he say If you wanna backstab towards the front Throw your hands up 'cause I got what you want Rap to me is like makin' a free throw Easy, y'all come thicker than Miss Cleo I'm trainin' for a war like a army dude Burnin' weak rappers like a barbecue I'm comin' with the hunger of a starvin' dude So stoppin' this rap is impossible What [Chorus] x2