Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Masters of the Universe, artist - Epidemic. Date of issue: 29.09.2011
Song language: English
Masters of the Universe |
| I, control planets in my hand with this rap shit |
| We, make solar systems disappear like a hat trick |
| See, what differentiate us is we don’t lack shit |
| But, hey, display wackness is practice, this rap shit is |
| Yo, let me show you how to rip lyrics and viciously murder the mic |
| Lyrics contained in DNA to bring my verses to life |
| My words stick to your scalp like a person with lice |
| You don’t believe my poetry? |
| Well, here’s some words of advice |
| This poet’s deep, plus the way that I be flowing is nice |
| You second guessing? |
| Then it’s obvious you know that I’m right |
| I’ve been a novelist before I had a flow and was tight |
| I wasn’t dropping hits, I drop bombs to blow up the mic |
| Like, a warfare, I’m lyrically moving y’all squares |
| If y’all there, I’mma show you my metaphor’s rare |
| With biblical symbols on my??? |
| umbilical??? |
| cord |
| ??? |
| war lord, sentinel enter your ventricles |
| With a long sword, disconnecting your tentacles |
| A visual hardcore, criminals think they spitting and y’all sway |
| Ya’ll spitting dumb rhymes, busy imitating my punchlines |
| Stop riding my dick cause you covered with bubblegum rhymes |
| Y’all need to stop that, could never top that |
| Where I’m from, niggas like you would stand in cyphers and would not rap |
| Holy shit, I’m defying gravity like I’m Morpheus |
| Mind create dimensions with a millions planets thats orbiting |
| You niggas better cut the fronting before I try your chin |
| My flows will fry your skin, and make your body absorb this fire like vitamin |
| You faggot clone get dragged and thrown in the lion’s den |
| For trying to battle this violent rhyming Leviathan |
| This shit is deep, son, I’m raping the beat |
| ??? |
| the sleep, I’ll have your sheets baking in heat |
| Faking defeat, for your team, I’m making them meat |
| Take it as weak? |
| I’ll have your teeth scraping the street |
| You bitches real as dykes, my clique’s elite just like the British rites |
| My killer strife, you men are timid mice soon as the menace strikes |
| Soon as I finish fights, so, take a hike, don’t test my limits twice |
| And ask your friend give you kin advice, I’ve always been this nice |
| So, give us mics, we finna shine like we invented lights |
| And leave your afterlife diminished like you pricks invented Christ |
| For when it strikes, my clique ascetic like Dominic whites |
| Try to bite my shit? |
| You’ll be in clinics for extending nights |
| You meet the feet to this, it ain’t no secret |
| Yo, my ??? |
| is the illest viral agents on the petrie dish |
| And spray with ether mist, ignite a flame and make your speaker’s crisp |
| We bang you snakes until your face is featureless |
| Your music never felt right, oh, you say you busting shells? |
| Right |
| You mean at night you crushing snails? |
| Right |
| I’ll have you tucking in your tail cause you frail, you can tell right? |
| Yo, let me tell them what they smell like, pussy |