| When you enter my house of worship
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| Your crucifix, I doubt it
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| Only Christianity I recognize is my man Khrist’s album
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| Flip the pages of Isis Papers killin' racist
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| Federal agents, roll up rockin' masks with they techs
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| Computer matrix classified access throw on ya gas mask
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| The devil’s bash flash reflected off the lights gats blast
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| (Hopes to those) Leavin' ya inner deep with ya chromosomes blown
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| Roamin' the catacombs of the phantom zone
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| (Ask yourself) How can we obtain true equality
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| When the value and price of life is less than technology?
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| They tryna call this a civil-ization
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| But what the hell is civilized about buildin' weapons and space stations
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| Cease and just call it what it really is
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| A technologically barbaric society like the Ancient Romans
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| I see the writing on the wall
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| The devil killed the righteous man
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| But now the rest’ll take the savage beast to war
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| Remember rules of ancient, crusty like basements, study like spaceships
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| Ain’t no probin' wid metal processors temperature placements
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| Teeth of a dragon, face of a lion
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| Children of Zion half bleeds who defacate iron
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| Burnt in flames we firin' robots and the bible insane
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| Unknown intelligence son to the sun we’re astral residents
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| Bigger than rap let’s make this album decadence
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| Turn mass to energy, medicine and telepathy, conspiracy, Tel Aviv
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| Buildin' the food pyramid type heart with the left plate
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| Confess stay, raw like stones on my breastplate
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| It seems to me they all had hands in Nazi thievery
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| It’s ninety six brothers use brains at low frequencies
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| One time for sharp kids, killers do biblical
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| There’s two ghettos, one in the mind, the other physical
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| Break through, I be on the search for other niggas
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| Race haters and prostitutes just as sinful as jail niggas
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| I step to Fat Beats, it’s filled with ghetto philosophers
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| Beat lovers and derelicts plus urban stenographers
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| The way they take my words to their throat and dictate 'em
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| To they man, like they was in the lab and just made 'em
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| From scratch but we can catch you on that parade
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| Cause in the end you sound like wax
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| That ten other emcees made
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| I’m throwin' shade to the willow
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| When you weepin' on the pillow
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| We’ll know when it’s time for finger prints
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| To be rubbed out with Brillo skills
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| Go through changes includin' cats that rearrange 'em
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| So if you hold my skills for ransom better kill 'em fore I claim 'em
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| I don’t see Jehovah tellin' you that it ain’t over
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| My carb take the eye of the storm, through this soldier
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| Sworn to defend the faith rap monk in New Tibet
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| If you want the holy doctrine tell 'em we this crew to get
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| Now who’s next, uh, it’s Non-Phixion, Non-Phixion |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hot 97.1 Freestyle, artist - Non Phixion. Album song The Green CD, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп