I had to hit you with just some raw attitude to let you know that side of me you can't mess with.

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Whispers in the Dark is a staple in Mhorlock history. We did a number of different versions, changing beats and lyrics alike, including one that featured Mr. Khaliyl, UG from Dwellas, and my man Stiches a/k/a Steven King. I brought this back by popular demand with a brand new twist.

Don't cross that line in the sand/
I got lyrics quick to kick your tooth out and clothesline your man/
Breakin' you down like Andy Kaufman, your spine softens/
Murderin' any beat you get on, now you're an orphan/
I get up in your mind like preachers speakin' Divine Right/
except my design's tight/
Grabbin' the mic and turnin' night clubs in to mosh-pit style fight clubs/
synced up to heavy-metal dubs/
Some days I wanna purge this rap game/
through gunshots and homicidal urges/
Instead I load skills in the barrel and put holes in your head like humpbacks/
to make emcees buckle and slump back/
A victim to the Kane level of raw--Forget a ten-count/
Long as I make you jaw dismount/
Son, it's OJ, codename: Whisper/
A lethal weapon with an infinite salvo of ammo to hit ya/

[Chorus]
Stand up, hands up, grab the atmosphere/
When Omega's in the spot, be crystal clear/
It ain't them loud mouth brothas that you need to fear/
Avoid the whispers in the dark because the danger is near//

I rush the stage and hand out dilemmas/
like gifts in December, choppin' through foes like timber/
Watch the temper--I got brothas that function/
like firing pins, blastin' your assumptions/
When OJ's in the streets you need to show your respect by wiping your feet/
and rehearsin' rapid retreats/
This ain't just rappin' with beats, it's the Wrath of Elite, trappin' with heat/
I ghost dudes in battle, medics come to wrap 'em in sheets/
You can't compete, handle that beef/
with your chick; She's the one who chose on catchin' my skeet/
Handle defeat like a man and your chapter's complete/
Otherwise you're just a trick dog dancin' for treats/
You spit weak; at the beach I kick sand at your physique/
My speech hits hard the Stonefist Technique/
I'm a convicted killer in this biz, your demise in imminent/
All thoughts of rebellion should be reconsidered, kid//

[Chorus]
Stand up, hands up, grab the atmosphere/
When Omega's in the spot, be crystal clear/
It ain't them loud mouth brothas that you need to fear/
Avoid the whispers in the dark because the danger is near//

Comin' outta Queens, it's the 21st Century Jim Kelly/
that hits ya like a painful memory/
Dok Who, also known as Mr. O/
I rock crews, leaving few like Jeet Kune Do/
Rippin' on fools, flippin' the rules and straight trippin'/
with the force of old-fashioned Jamaican ass-whippins/
I'm done with the false prophets and photo thugs/
This ain't the Matrix--you'll never see them slo-mo slugs/
You wanna see me? Then feel for the power of 7/
as I grind, globe-steppin' like I'm Meadowlark Lemon/
When I lay it on the line I'm fightin' for mine
like drunken Kung Fu masters/ to Chinese ghetto blasters/
Understand how my click gets down/
We're them Monster Trucks fillin' up the streets of your town/
Shhhh... I'm-a snuff out your spark/
Committed to them surgical strikes like whispers in the dark/