| Yeah, what up
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| (The show is over)
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| Welcome to the final frontier
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| Soul position, RJD2 on the beats
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| Plus myself, Blueprint on the rhymes
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| (The show is over)
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| Live and direct
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| We’re here
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| (The show is over)
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| The final frontier
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| We’re here
|
| (The show is over)
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| The final frontier
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| We breathe adrenaline, elevate organically
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| Life begins when the record spins and ends
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| When blended into the next with scratches
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| RJ constructs the canvas, I find a color that matches
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| Outline the rhyme and increase the content
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| Blueprint the piece that completes the concepts
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| Sequence the song steps to make it more complex
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| Soul Position in, sole possession of
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| Poll position, hold your breath and listen
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| While I resurrect these twenty-six letters
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| A lesson to beginners that tend to pale in comparison
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| You’re not ill, and if you are
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| My notepad’s full of medicine
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| Plus my freestyle is Excedrin
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| Take two hours and call me back with a new style
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| And show me you’re prepared for the final frontier
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| We’re here
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| (The show is over)
|
| The final frontier
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| We’re here
|
| (The show is over)
|
| The final frontier
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| We breathe adrenaline, elevate organically
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| My pen like a turntable arm moves mechanically
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| Even when the groove shifts or skips dramatically
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| I accurately etch out my welded fine fantasy
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| Across a skyline covered with sound
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| I move into position like a cumulus cloud
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| Acid rain slang still a part of my emosis
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| My first demo, known to soak instrumentals
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| With brainstorms, capable to break in the calm
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| Created by strange tongues that praise the norm
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| But while they make a living giving false testimony
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| I often impress the ceremony with an exercise in exorcism
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| First I ride the rhythm, then I spit a venomous
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| Open mic sermon for the trife vermon
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| That had a hard time learnin'
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| How to properly prepare for the final frontier
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| We’re here
|
| (The show is over)
|
| The final frontier
|
| We’re here
|
| (The show is over)
|
| The final frontier
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| We breathe adrenaline, elevate organically
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| Escaping out of milk crates with modern-day tragedies
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| Of lost verse, or crews you coulda looped first
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| But refuse to do the work when the whistle blew
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| So in a world dominated by the digital
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| The metronome I listen to beats inside of my chest
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| It speeds up with a level of stress
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| It’s built to last, but analog at best
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| Ingest another measurement of time served
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| My lifeline swerves, kind of like a sine curve
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| Time blurs, during my breakneck, ascend
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| To apex, and then slows during my lows
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| Tone-deaf soundmen work my shows
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| The ass of my art form’s always exposed
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| But I’m inspired by the front rows
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| They’re the reason I prepared for the final frontier
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| We’re here
|
| (The show is over)
|
| The final frontier
|
| We’re here
|
| (The show is over)
|
| The final frontier
|
| (The show is over)
|
| (The show is over)
|
| (The show is over) |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Final Frontier , by - RJD2. Song from the album Deadringer: Deluxe, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп