| A nigga told me only rhyme for 19-year-olds
|
| Nigga, you should rhyme wherever the spirit goes
|
| Here it goes, lyrical miracles
|
| These are pyramids from the imperial
|
| In theory though, low end scenario
|
| And sound boy burial drove me to classic material
|
| Aerial nights blew my mind out of stereotypes
|
| For ethereal heights, I write like Richard
|
| Invisible man, pictured below
|
| With the hieroglyphicable prolifical flow
|
| On the walls where the mystics of Kemet would go
|
| Supreme wisdom in my system is the kick in the door
|
| I don’t rhyme for the sake of riddlin' though
|
| This is a ritual for those depicted as low
|
| Now I passed life like I’ve been here before
|
| The reincarnation of It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold
|
| Us Back, coldest raps, for me, the globe is like a culdesac
|
| Around the world in a day, find forever and I stay
|
| I’m from the weather where they spray, there’s gotta be a better way
|
| People dying every day, wonder what would heaven say
|
| Devils need to get away
|
| From Chevrolet to Escalade, from evergreen to the everglades
|
| I kneel where the rebels prayed
|
| Seen 50 grey, but they need better shades
|
| Niggas rhymin' like their whole style in retrograde, the escapade I’m on
|
| Is like when the sun, moon and stars was born
|
| It’s hard to explain how these pyramids formed
|
| Talent that I got will riz-ock the spot
|
| MCs I’ll be burning, burning hot
|
| Talent that I got will riz-ock the spot
|
| MCs I’ll be burning, burning hot
|
| Talent that I got will riz-ock the spot
|
| MCs I’ll burn, I’ll burn, and I will burn, burn, burn
|
| I arrived on the planet, never took the Southside for granted
|
| Smoke a little, keep a high standard
|
| The Roots are my niggas so got a fly band with
|
| Son of the sit-ins, you know who I stand with
|
| Dude said I was a hero, I ain’t nothing but a sandwich
|
| A gluten-free one at that, close my eyes see my raps
|
| My bio is feedback from what we need rap
|
| On some Marshawn Lynch, let me run it back
|
| And come with that new black spiritual
|
| Every rap’s a miracle, condition now critical
|
| Can’t lack lyrical, we need black generals
|
| Holy war, tap into you like Savion
|
| But I’m a orator, the corduroy boy
|
| Came the door-to-door name down the corridor of fame
|
| I walk like an Egyptian on a mission to listen to conditions
|
| Envision a vision of what we wishing
|
| I’ve been commissioned to deprison the prism of your mind
|
| Spit the wisdom of the one divine
|
| Close encounter of the wonder kind, front a line
|
| Shift the paradigm with a pair of rhymes
|
| Styled by Michaela in the suite with Caroline
|
| Getting dressed up under pressure, Alabama Shakes on
|
| Incense rising from the dresser
|
| Child of a fresher God
|
| Influenced by the life of the former, Joanne Chesimard
|
| Assata Shakur, I gotta do more
|
| The light-skinned spook who got in the door
|
| I got in here for the same thing Cassius Clay uses pottery for
|
| I’m on a world tour with Muhammad the prophet, my man
|
| And where we land the pyramids stand
|
| Talent that I got will riz-ock the spot
|
| MCs I’ll be burning, burning hot
|
| Talent that I got will riz-ock the spot
|
| MCs I’ll be burning, burning hot
|
| Talent that I got will riz-ock the spot
|
| MCs I’ll burn, I’ll burn, and I will burn, burn, burn |