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(Verse 1: Planetary) |
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Yeah! Yo, uh, |
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A lotta rappers try approaching the omen, |
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My palms are punishin' people while I'm up at the podium, |
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Pharaohs folding 'em, like washed clothes again, |
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I'm a vulture when the flow go choke your kid, |
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Broke, I leave most of them, slow, I keep my motionin' |
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Eye on the prize, |
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I silence the wise, with lyrics make a scientist cry, |
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Making a secret society expose they purpose, |
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Making 'em unleash info and exploding my surface, |
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I'm taking my time to birth this, rap entity earthless, |
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It's show time, there's no time, we ready when the curtain split, |
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I'm hurting shit, too powerful for painkillers |
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On the concrete jungle, we walk like trained guerrillas |
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Untamed, and my niggas is Kane |
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Kool G, Rakim, combined into one frame |
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We like the new mecca of immaculate rappers, |
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Vinnie Paz, call the goons, now we back with the clappers. |
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(Verse 2: Chief Kamachi) |
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Yo, |
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The man silent, kill him with what I mentally says, |
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Bloody Fez, choke you like an Indian res |
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Kamach, animal Turk, sick with a cannibal smirk, |
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Welcome, this where the murderers lurk, |
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It's my mind, that make sure that the Sun can work, |
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Scorch bodies, leave all of your gunmen hurt, |
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Pharaoh sultans, create a serious cult jam, |
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And my hand is where the tears of the pope ran, |
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They stay watching like they keep me on a scope cam, |
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I'm in heaven with the angels and smoke grams, |
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You need God, that's why the earth so damned, |
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International, trying to get my flow banned, |
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That's cool, if I don't kick these prayers, |
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A lot of floods and famine's gonna hit these years, |
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Kamachi back on the chapel stairs, |
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Open the clouds, let the thunder clap your ears. (Chyea!) |
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(Verse 3: King Syze) |
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If you wanna put your money up then muthafucka then put it, |
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for your families sanity man I wish that you wouldn't, |
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Niggas got nice flows, just don't know where to put it, |
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And I know your whole life your raps are edited footage, |
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Hey y'all mixtape niggas couldn't see my plateaus, |
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All up in my presence why y'all actin bashful, |
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King Syze cats and any clique they rap for, |
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y'all little light niggas couldn't feed my shadows, |
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From, city to city, intersection to session, |
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What you reflexin, with or without a weapon, |
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I'm always steppin, Never scared, |
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But always and forever prepared, |
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Yeah the ones who drink gas man, is revvin' they gears. |
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(Verse 4: Reef the Lost Cauze) |
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You now rocking with the foulest clique in the continent, |
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Total dominance, rise to prominence, |
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In my prime like Optimus, |
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Stand in astonishment, |
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Act as conglomerate, an axis of evil, |
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I know where Osama is, he down in Camp David, |
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Down and dirty like a damp basement, |
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The champ must demand greatness, |
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From himself, or be another contender, |
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There's 100's of niggas, |
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Dead left under the river, |
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From the days of slaves, |
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To Hurricanes in Orleans, |
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See my peoples graves floatin amongst, |
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the waves, there's hell to pay, but |
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the devil don't take checks, |
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I try to send a message to God, |
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his phone don't take text, |
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I need a new plan, a crook with knowledge, |
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times is hard homie, why I took them dollars, |
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Man, my momma got a mortgage, |
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and my little baby sista' need books for college, |
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I rob all y'all. |
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(Verse 5: Doap Nixion) |
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Hey yo, |
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They want the hood in here so they called me first, |
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I get em rappers Gatorade cuz they ball with thirst, UH! |
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This is more then music, |
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but these niggas is mad trash, |
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that's why the stores refuse em, yo, |
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I'm out in Georgia goin straight to the block, |
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I'm seein cats motorcyclin dawg I'm doin the wop, |
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I'm an OG, I call my Italian niggas a wop, |
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though they papers aint right but they got weight on the block, |
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I love em uh, |
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hand to hand till your hands ache, |
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I drunk so much syrup dawg I stop eatin pancakes, |
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Ya niggas cool dawg mines absurd hot, |
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Stop frontin like you's a killa money your nerves shot, |
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Yo you's a Paxil Nigga, Dumpin Zoloft in coffee, |
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AOTP will exhaust b, |
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cant keep it gear, cuz I'm blinging with F's, |
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but I got my mind right so swing your shit to the left. |
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(Verse 6: Demoz) |
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Nigga, If I had 24 hours to live, |
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Fuck 24 hours, gimme 24 seconds, |
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Vin I'm drivin off a bridge, |
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Broken rib, no windshield, covered in kerosene, |
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gasoline, tank filled to the top, |
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magazines of these phony rappers ripped in pieces, |
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No preachers, strong enough to take me outta my zone, |
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I broke jesus, choke niggas who squeal, |
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rob niggas who steal, kill niggas who kill, |
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I'm too sick for a pill, |
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Man these niggas aint real they real fake, |
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they say they a man but they fuckin' with real snakes, |
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thats when you put em in a trunk with they grill taped, |
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Whip in reverse and run into a steel gate, |
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I'm a suicide driver, never been a liar, |
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If I don't kill you later I'ma kill you "Manana", |
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y'all don't want know problems, |
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y'all don't want no drama, |
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Nigga I'ma take a trip with your baby momma, Suicide Driver. |
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(Verse 7: Celph Titled) |
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Ya betta cross your T's, |
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Cuz we'll dot your I's, |
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You can say that you specialize but Pharaohs will optimize, |
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Backstage will get a bitch backsmacked there, |
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The macplayer like dirty south pimpslapped clap snares, (YEAAH) |
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Holy Paragraphs, (What kind of shit is that?) |
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I'm Jesus in the flesh so this is muthafuckin Christian rap, |
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Y'all just Christmas wrap, must be the secret Santa, |
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My reindeer aim near, pierce you with the antlers, |
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I made em go easy, and called off the wolves on my AOTP radio CB, |
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Cuz y'all ain't worthy of grenades and RPG's, |
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Slit throat hope you float with sardines and seaweed, |
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Cuz this is C-E, L-P-H |
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Demonic symphony, listen to the hell we make, |
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And a year before your kids 10th birthday came, |
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You didn't have to wait for candles on the cake to see the nine flame. |
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(Verse 8: Vinnie Paz) |
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Respect a G, my clique clap at you incessantly, |
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I lay back and drink alcohol excessively, |
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There ain't a rapper that's alive today that's testing me, |
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I got degrees in being ignorant and weaponry, |
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A 40 oz and a dutch master is the recipe, |
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That's my shit there that'll be the death of me, |
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Give me a death mask, better yet a effigy, |
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I understand the math of death and it's complexity, |
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I understand how you was violently murked, |
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I understand how you was raised under the lies of the church, (ha-ha-ha-ha) |
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But understand and recognize that I'm cursed, |
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With the ability to end your fucking lives with a verse. |
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Yeah! |
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Brraat brraaat!! |
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Paz-man, AOTP, Ill Bill on the beat |
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Billy Crystal, what up baby? La Coka! |
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AOTP, ha ha ha. |
