another mc lose his life tonight lord
i beg that you pray to jesus christ why
o lord father dont let him bury me whoa
i haunt mcs like mephistophales
bringin swords and damacles
secret service keep a close watch as if my name was kennedy
abstract raps simple with a street format
gaze into the sky and measure planets by parallax
check out the retrograde motion kill the notion
of biting and recycling and calling it your own creation
i feel like rockwell somebodys watching me
i got no privacy whether on land or at sea
and for you biting zealots your raps are cacophonic
hypocrite critic but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit
it hurts dont it the refugees come to your turf and take over the earth
see my rhymes are the type of fly rhymes
that can only get down with my crew
and if you try to take lines or bite rhymes
well show you how the refugees do
behold as my odes manifold on your rhymes
two mcs cant occupy the same space at the same time
its against the laws of physics
so weep as your sweet dreams break up like eurythmics
rap rejects my tape deck ejects projectile
whether jew or gentile
i rank top percentile
many styles
more powerful than gamma rays
my grammar pays
like carlos sanatana plays
black magic woman
so while you fuming im consuming
mango juice under polaris
youre just embarrassed
cause its your last tango in paris
and even after all my logic and my theory
i add a muthafker so you ignint niggas hear me
and you remember take notes
as i sow my rap otas
and for you biting zealots heres a quote
another mc lose his life tonight lord
i beg that you pray to jesus christ why
o lord father dont let him bury me whoa
you can try but you cant divide the tribe
these cats cant rap mr author i feel no vibe
the magazine says the girl should have gone solo
the guys should stop rapping vanish like menudo
took it to the heart but every actor plays his part
as long as someone was listening i knew it was a start
for me to get a chance grab my pen and revamp
do a cameo while everybody do the dance
quick now cause you runnin out of lucka
playin mr big im gonna get you sucka
while you munchin at your luncheon ill be planning your assassination
then hit you like the dutchmen
i compress sound sets with my rap dbx
then drop vocals on my 456 ampex
bring terror to the shop of horror
as she cries mi amor
the phantom dies in the opera
and to the youngins who carry gadgets
and kill 6 days a week then on a sabbath
violence aint necessary unless you provoke me
then get buried like the great mussolini
and for you bitin zealots
your rap styles are relics
no matter who you damage
youre still a false prophet
another mc lose his life tonight lord
i beg that you pray to jesus christ why
o lord father dont let him bury me whoa
