Our name was given to us by dark spirits of the other realm to remind all mortals of their inevitable wooden eternal tomb.

Yeah, only in cemetaries, at midnight, when the clock rings 12 times. When Pluto lines up with Saturn, the moon lines up with Jupiter and it all lines up with your anus. We like it alright, I guess, sometimes it gets cold in the cemetary and the ghouls won't let us wear coats, because we're alive and they wish they were alive with enough bank roll to buy cashmere soccer mom bi*** ass whack coats. Special moments? When a man loves a woman, and that woman loves him backj, and it all lines up with your anus...it's special...but only if it's Thursday.

I think it rips off artists, and the little man, who likes to spank his kids on the sidewalk in town square. I also feel it's a really good thing that this is happening, when it happens on Thursdays, in the darkness of the sunlight. Our souls are forever indebted to you bastard internet f***s.

Major labels can straight up eat a bowl of collard greens. We happen to think collard greens are Satan incarnate devil worshipping plant hybrids. So yes, we would sign a deal with Sony, but not D3 entertainment.

We started 3 days ago when our bodies were found in a Manhattan public swimming gutter sewer pool type library concrete factory sex house porno mag publisher building. So in the past 18 years of our rap careers, we've done alot including having sex with wooden Ouigi boards and producing tracks for the Charles Manson hit theater Broadway play. We have a fan club called "The Dead Heads" maybe you've heard of em, they're 198 dead guys from Manson's clique in Connecticut.

We like to influence our music with Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, and Paula Abdul. We are also heavily influenced by Elvis and Korn.

The cemetary in Adel Georgia on the corner of 7th avenue and Dead Street

Our fingers as microphones, ourteeth as beat machines, and our girlfriends stomachs as notepads for lyrics...we carve lyrics into them with exacto blades from K-mart but when they run out we fly to Pakistan to buy them at a Kwik-E-Mart run by white folks.

We love you Paula...but only on Thursdays when the moon goes down and so does the sun, and our souls are blackened like sweet peanut butter nugget treats.