| We still talkin' about slavery
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| But these are my proof to show you that slavery helped
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| Yeah, I’ve got the seventh seal in my hand
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| Still waiting on that commencement speech invitiation
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| Cash strapped HBCU, but I’ll take it
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| Plagiarized «This Is Water»
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| No Foster Wallace, but I’ll fake it, I’ll fake it
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| Makeshift, transubstantiation, cup or chalice, hand shaking
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| Pac blood, one sip, a rapper could beat all his cases
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| In this side-scrolling, 8-bit bullet hell, I’m patient
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| Graceful as third generation bomb makers
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| Dancers' bodies weave the wires
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| Basements, arms tired, eight eyes aching
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| Squealing tires as per the arrangement
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| Hiding Places was inside my mind’s labyrinths and mazes
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| Heavy headed shapes who live in crawlspaces
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| Lord knows, it’s hard being famous
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| Flip phone Pan-Africans call home on occasion
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| Sounding happier, sounding like sincere
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| I sincerely hope Cape Town riddle your Acura
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| Mandrax under the front passenger
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| Deus Ex Machina every chapter
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| I glow in the dark, half-life under weighted blankets
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| Fucking on cold nights
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| Lead pipe banging, waves of x-ray scanning
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| Catch a body after tampering with the body camera
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| It’s a cancer
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| It’s a mass in the abdomen, it’s a tuned mass damper
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| Old man Barnum, super scammers
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| Tamarind daiquiri, no tough guy, I’m a dandy
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| No bam in the backwood, color of brandy
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| Acrid, greed, banana and ackee
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| King Tubby, wherever I’m at, that’s the hit factory
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| Russian waters, liquid borders
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| Meet me at the shore, address me as your lord
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| I’m with death, flipping quarters
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| Grilling swordfish on the back of a black orca
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| Opening the records, 180 gram warping
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| Four fingers on the lazy susan
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| Breathless detail, what my house of the moon meant
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| First drape the cruel lens
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| Player’s jurisprudence
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| Naked underneath, save for the Ruger
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| A real boofer, rumor
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| Boy with the red balloon drifting toward a new Earth
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| Cloud burst before the boom, like quickening in the womb
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| Quivers coursing through, contortions
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| I’m at the source, true north, new morning
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| Sea birds and jetsam
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| What I needed and a little bit extra
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| Yep, yep, I seen it, shiny chrome dipped in polish
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| Handsome gun, a mnemonic picture so you frame the logic
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| Your mind the greatest weapon, but your heart the biggest target
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| Marksman
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| I devour from the lands of time forgotten
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| Power, power, power, on the minds of those without it
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| Cowards in high places refute this world is ours
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| Flowers from misguided recruits, the light rerouted
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| I watch Ms. Rogers splayed on the stoop and cry for hours
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| They liars, only trusted through proven truth, the survivors
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| I’m giant, I’m giant, no weapon formed shall triumph
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| They left us out to dry, I recombined like I designed it
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| Reclining with the lions, like the coyote overcome the donkey
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| Raised on self reliance when Jah didn’t provide enough
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| Scratching and surviving, shooting tight for months
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| Maybe greed, maybe not, when I see Zion
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| Aquarius moon, the various roots consume
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| Ritual smoke fumed above the tomb
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| Ain’t no white witch bitch here on nobody broom
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| Aight then, boom
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| We tarry for whom, scarab bearer blooms
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| In the ruins feeling tender, render me unctuous
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| Ain’t no telling where I might end up
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| Entombed, a living artifact, far from yours
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| Drums or horns or harpsichords
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| Distant form upon horizon
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| You can try, but if the heart denies, find silence
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| Glad tidings
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| I tell you, see I wanna get in
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| Help |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song King Tubby, artist - Armand Hammer. Album song Shrines, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп