| This is sacred land, my father’s land
|
| (Yo, yo, yeah, yeah, yo. yeah, yeah
|
| Yo, yeah-yeah-yeah. |
| yo)
|
| (Bronze Nazareth)
|
| Yo my ravenous thoughts, savages taught
|
| Massively brought axes and hatchets is soft
|
| Records match dastardly cults
|
| Graphics in vaults, flashes of magic is brought
|
| You lack sight mothafucka your swords and masters are dull
|
| We grapple and duck
|
| You back in shackles and cuffs
|
| Mathematical snuffs
|
| Madness is lust i had to construct
|
| ashes of thought, flashin whats tucked
|
| passion as grimey as muck
|
| A butcher has struck, hackin the surface of skulls
|
| Lackin a purposeful, rational reason for swingin in halls
|
| My Grammy is hand-writin on walls
|
| I send lightning thru halls
|
| that strike like wolverine claws
|
| Raps are bullets that soar thru cartilage in ya jaw
|
| filaments ligaments tore, thats how a pillage is born
|
| I’m spillin ya soul, like wolves licking blades in the cold
|
| My halo is old, got it from grand-dad when he died
|
| Beagle sad eagle eyes stay dark as broken street lights
|
| Deep as ocean sea life
|
| Need me like gamblers need dice
|
| Shambles and hoods wit steep blight
|
| Thats why i couldn’t see right,
|
| Once said «this couldn’t be life»
|
| it hits like 3 pipes
|
| I’m still ill as seasick slaves, dig emcees deepest graves
|
| Wigs meet this amnesia shave, I bleed on page
|
| then sleep wit rage
|
| NIGGA READ EACH PAGE!
|
| (Interlude: movie sample)
|
| It rests on thirteen acres of Earth
|
| Over the very center of Hell
|
| He here is the first to offer, to the daring
|
| To look into the final madning space
|
| Between life, and death
|
| With sights and sounds far beyond anything you tested
|
| Avoid fainting…
|
| (Bronze Nazareth)
|
| Yo my sinister stings glimmer like ministers rings,
|
| echo like singers who sing in hills and valleys of kings
|
| Alleys and gallery art
|
| Mallory Gatlin cold heart
|
| travel when power line sparks
|
| sour dimes devour my heart
|
| Archery shower of darts
|
| Cowards with flowers depart
|
| Calculus algebra hard
|
| Falcon beak arrowhead sharp
|
| Marriage of marrow and bark
|
| Stare at a mirror and crack it,
|
| Carnage wit targets and ratchets
|
| Suspense from dense winter habits
|
| like keepin arms in our jackets
|
| I farm this like a harvest
|
| or crops in old Mayan forests
|
| dying of thirst and a famine
|
| Drivin' a hearse thru ya basement
|
| my cadence is camen fiendin' ta bite when they say «Amen»
|
| peeling cotton and slavin', thats how the blade spin like bottles
|
| my kiss of death might’ve got u
|
| stockin my shelters wit gospel
|
| hot like lava on the bodies of models
|
| Ra Amen apostle, hospital cut-throat
|
| «MY GOD WHO SENT YOU!?» |
| asked the emcee for my neuss rope
|
| I’m bogglin' kin folk
|
| Modelin' hobblin' pen strokes
|
| I’m wealthy in mental
|
| you poor with chains and a limo
|
| Language is terminal
|
| Since urban servings is burning you
|
| Lyrics seep-through, brain angles from deep roots
|
| Chemical alchemy too
|
| Throw u from balcony stoops
|
| Isn’t he too… SICK like that chronic fatigue?
|
| Deeper than subsonic leaves
|
| pull on trees thats root-free…
|
| (movie sample)
|
| What happened was true
|
| The most brutal series of crimes in America
|
| This is just as real, just as close
|
| Just as terrifying as being there
|
| Even if one of them survives, what will be left?
|
| After you stop screaming, you’ll start talking about it |