[Verse 1: Tragedy Khadafi]
The nights is precisely on some light shit
Roll dice and pyramids with ices
The game’s at a crisis
Dudes singing on tracks using all types of spaced-out devices
A once resurrected soul is lifeless
But I still won’t stop, not in the slightest
Culture vultures, trying to steal our culture
Labels mob on us like Francis For Cobbella
Turn my vocals up, I’m a soldier ‘till the world’s over
Cinematic on play, lay closer to Jehovah
It’s not over
I’m trying to tell y’all now, it’s not over
Masonic lodgers trying to get inside us
Two-five survive or die riders we the livest
Cosine with militant guerillas spit
Bleed for the craft so any track I’m killing it
[Hook]
Step into my zone, mad rhymes will stifle ya
Suckers get pushed back when I’m kicking real facts
Yeah, that’s right
Step into my zone, mad rhymes will stifle ya
No double checking
Vocals kill like weapons
[Verse 2]
I don’t give a cotton picking if you living large or competing large
You deceiving through your mirage
Not just because, retards, you know we breathing for a cause
Like we supposed to, you getting closer to seeing God
Aiming for high, thought you knew dude inspired by the Juice Crew
Live wired I’d advise you loose screw
From a handshake, the man is a snake
Butter me up like landau lake
I had all I can stare and then take
Risk his life for his brother man, Richard Roundtree
Aware of my curcumas, and bound to me missing surrounding me
While you snoozing, sound asleep
King of underground crowning me
I stowned it to a t
Lights out when I hit the circuit breaker
Got them nervous when I do them service player
Your circle is a circus straight up
Camp is full of antics, amusing with laughter
Pretty young things ain’t ready
So it’s cougars I’m after
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Blak Madeen]
I'm from the (?) that's the born God bill
Trying to get to the Heaven Gates, yeah, your boy got skills
Spitting verses without curses, yeah
What's a wordsmith making saliva purses
Turkish sufi's and Arabic freedom fighters
My face is hard to read like the freedom writers
And the headband'll say, 'Pardon you, God'
Not to part with shades on, it's on the Qur'an
Check chapter 58, verse 22
We on the straight path when you Henny and brew
Plenty of crews, just can't compete with Madeen
It's next Malcom X on the streets of the beam
Or in the Roupons, and Allah or queens
Salam Aleikum, (?)
Or snatchers been out rust or stay warm
You pray to God, shaytan, he prays on the yawn
