| «What did you mean when you said we were all dead?»
|
| «Do you ever think two times before you do anything?»
|
| «You ever think about what we want to do?»
|
| «And how to get it passed the white man?»
|
| «We don’t live life, we survive through life»
|
| Nu Kemet, Renaissance Child, raise the dead
|
| Yea, Godz wrath, I’m back niggas, (about to bury niggas)
|
| Open my casket, brush it off, brush that shit
|
| Wipe the dirt off my shoulder, let’s go
|
| This rap game want me +Buried Alive+ (Yea)
|
| This rap game want me +Buried Alive+ (Yea)
|
| This rap game want me +Buried Alive+
|
| It don’t matter if you’re rich, is you ready to die?
|
| You can tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes (Yea)
|
| This rap game want me +Buried Alive+
|
| This rap game want me +Buried Alive+
|
| I ain’t dead son, my mind was in Solomon’s Tomb
|
| No diva’s like Queen of Sheba, who be swallowin' shrooms
|
| Blair Witches from the hood, who don’t ride on no brooms
|
| Just hard dick, wit a G-pack in hotel rooms
|
| I’m back, holdin' that ratchet, y’all left it on my casket
|
| A rap kid that opened up my CD plastic
|
| Another birth of a MC classic
|
| I Hell Raz' the dead, when I speak to the masses
|
| I’m like. |
| Embalming fluids in Champagne glasses
|
| They say my name backwards in toast to they soldiers
|
| I let a Zombie beside wipe the dirt off my shoulder
|
| We be Pyramid builders, we be dealin' wit boulders
|
| When I shine, it’s Supernova’s that be hoverin' over
|
| Wrote a Scripture on your tombstone, in the ink of a cobra
|
| Tossin' niggas off the ship, if they think they’re Jonah
|
| We payin' Hospital visits, if they’re layin' in coma’s
|
| Spit a verse on the corner, that be strong as Ammonia
|
| Red Hook to Dimona, we snuffin' slave owners
|
| Even if it’s chain gang, we got a shank on us
|
| It’s Maccabee, bang-bang, get a tank on us
|
| Black Market military, project cemeteries
|
| Rhymes be obituaries, simple as a dictionary
|
| Draw it like it’s pictionary, blacker than The Mother Mary
|
| Renaissance Icon, each bar legendary
|
| Y’all lookin' like the Blue Notes did, when they ain’t have Teddy
|
| Come and get me, if y’all really ready, some for Armageddy
|
| This rap game want me +Buried Alive+ (Fuck 'em)
|
| This rap game want me +Buried Alive+ (Yea)
|
| The crack game want me +Buried Alive+ (You know)
|
| You can’t tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes
|
| It don’t matter if you’re rich, is you ready to die?
|
| This rap game want me +Buried Alive+
|
| For dead men walkin', I wrote this in they mental coffin
|
| Kill your first borns off, wit a verbal abortion
|
| I’m written in stone in the project, valley and dry bones
|
| You were made like eye-clone sittin' in my throne (Get up)
|
| I play a skeleton bones like it’s xylophone (Brrrriinnnng)
|
| For that money, my mummy strapped wit a lot of chrome
|
| It’s flat line, dial tone wake 'em up, daddy’s home
|
| They can bury my flesh, but can’t bury my soul
|
| I ain’t atlas, but could carry the globe
|
| I stroll wearin' my gray clothes, draggin' my robe
|
| To a cipher, like a seance, and kick you a poem
|
| Turn the club to a catacomb, wit bloods on the dance floor
|
| Got models like Jezebel, takin' they pants off
|
| I’m tucked to common with fine diamonds, surrounded by violence
|
| Archaeologist grave robbin' in silence
|
| Invaded by those British tyrants, like Howard Carter
|
| I do this for Saints of Martyrs, and our father
|
| Dustin' off an old revolver, I’ll let the cylinder turn
|
| And henny burn, that I sip in the urn
|
| I draw it first then cremated, so remember the words
|
| It’s either one God you serve, or you can sleep wit the worms (Yea)
|
| This rap game want me +Buried Alive+ (Ha-ha)
|
| This rap game want me +Buried Alive+ (They wanna bury me man)
|
| This rap game want me +Buried Alive+
|
| It don’t matter if you’re rich, is you ready to die?
|
| You can tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes (Look at me man)
|
| This rap game want me +Buried Alive+ (You know I’m comin' for y’all niggas)
|
| This rap game want me +Buried Alive+ (Look at my fuckin' eyes man, this shit
|
| Is all real)
|
| Niggas thought I was gon' rest in peace
|
| But I’mma rise in peace, know’what’I’m’sayin'?
|
| This goes out to all them fake ass record companies
|
| And them fake ass record labels
|
| Who thought they was just gon' toss some fuckin' dirt on our grave
|
| And walk out the door with our masks and shit, know’what’Im’sayin'?
|
| 'Naw man, we gon' hunt y’all niggas down man
|
| We gon' hunt y’all niggas for the rest of y’all life man
|
| The last niggas that did shit to us, the studio burned down
|
| The last label that did some shit to us, they had to file bankrupcy
|
| Feel me?, we not playin' no fuckin' game no mo' man, Maccabees
|
| Niggas want us +Buried Alive+, y’all want us +Buried Alive+
|
| We gon' write rhymes underground, in the underworld
|
| On a fuckin' tombstones, inside the caskets
|
| That’s Mental Caskets though, cause y’all niggas is mentally dead
|
| It’s the return of the livin' dead man |