Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Black Hole Prophecies, artist - Foreign Beggars. Date of issue: 16.05.2005
Song language: English
Black Hole Prophecies |
| We gather in celebration of life, when embracing the mic |
| One taste of my strife, full straight from fight |
| Raising my right fist, blazingly hyped |
| Stating my right to recite, I’ll be taking a flight |
| Lazin' above clouds, ravin' up high, I |
| Sail to my touchdown when I clutch crowds and I bust loud |
| And instruct how the rhyme form can be twisted, can be |
| Lifted above norms, handed visions |
| Random writtens that drop jaws, making your clock pause, I’m |
| Shaming to clog pores, aiming to lock jaws, changing the fuck laws |
| As we come to the fore, inspired by the sweet scent of skunk from the floor |
| Words tumbling forth, crumbling hordes |
| In verses they stumble of course, and burst under my force |
| Survivors left with their wonder and awe, we exit stage left to a thunderous |
| applause |
| He lives alone in a black hole |
| It’s the bow-legged masochist, who’s savage with a crack pole |
| He snatched souls, ravaged whole towns and villages |
| Stole pounds with which he fills the cold mouth he dribbles with |
| He comes around you with his gold and brown vintage kicks |
| Trying to snoop around to use some old sounds from ninja flicks |
| They let him go about his business, said he wasn’t to be trusted since he tends |
| to things with clenched fists |
| Iron Man slang is the one with the vile tongue |
| Spit venom, still spit yelling by the nile home |
| Ice-faced vagrants take flight like a bird of prey |
| We murder, praise, first enslave vermin, break their vertebrae |
| Pilot plans scams from the brain of the Sire scum |
| Higher strand math from a stray who defiles slums |
| We walk forward, make haste until the sundown |
| Living to the fullest, feel like bullets from a thundercloud |
| He came to Earth to make a mark on this existence |
| With a strategy so elusive most remark with thick indifference |
| It’s the visions of the ancients, lost words of the episcopal |
| Risen from within, he sips a gourd that’s filled with pilfered souls |
| As though he walks amongst the damned, holding nothing but a cold can of |
| fiction in his hand |
| He was a storyteller, outlaw, working on a masterpiece |
| Head amidst his hands, he chased the stars until the laughter ceased |
| A charming thief bestowed forth into oblivion |
| Caught past the millions of warlord’s forced dominions |
| The cohorts of billions, the raw stock simian |
| Forethought sought to spawn his brawn amongst his minions |
| He spread his wisdom with a strange grin |
| The Grand-Wizard-Alchemist-Prison-Rat who chased skin |
| He played king to all those who drifted |
| The sweet taste of sin plagued the tin he pegged his lips with |
| I hobble home in the shredded threads of a borrowed robe |
| But my bottle holds sorrows in a hollow hold |
| See, I’m of the Apollo mold |
| Meaning I drift though space fireball with a copper tone |
| Me, I run a rhythm like a cartel |
| Never stop giving them the sharp nail, hard tale |
| We impart dark tales in the deep of night |
| Poised, the poison tips all sail at the speed of light |
| Iron Man slang is the one with vile tongue |
| Spit venom, still strip yelling by the hollow home |
| Ice-faced vagrants take flight like a bird of prey |
| We murder, praise, first enslave vermin, break their vertebrae |
| Pilot plans scams from the brain of the Sire scum |
| Higher strand math from a stray who defiles slums |
| We walk forward, make haste until the sundown |
| Living to the fullest, feel like bullets from a thundercloud |