[Chorus: Blakkamore]
[Verse 1: Blakkamore]
[Verse 2: Planet Asia]
A thorn in your skull with knowledge born [?]
X-File reptilian culture
The GOVs crucifying GODs daily
My oracle is historical
Identify the characteristics of a mystic
The seven spear working in harmony with the willing of my holy scrolls
Meaningful from the mind’s higher faculties of accuracy coinciding as I rap to the beat
From the cradle to post-graduate
Most gravitate towards my ministry
Nothing is industry when you in the streets
I cultivate my own spiritual growth
Jazz musician, these are lyrical notes played perfectly due to one
The sun, the moon, the stars, my bars rulin’ ‘em
Top of the hill, mе and my hooligans chill and break bread once thе jewel is revealed
When it came to Adam, God’s angels had to kneel
[Verse 3: Killah Priest]
Priesthood like Clint Eastwood, y’all wreck feats like the woods
Connect the streets to the woods
Wild at night, prowl to fight
The mics will play ’til the owls in flight
Fakes on ice, miles are tight
Crazy like bugs around the light, price
Sacrifice the afterlife, the Nazarite
The master in white, the chapters I write
Eat rappers all day, the appetite so
Thank the prince rocking frankincense
Past tense, glass tints, harassment
Torment, lay dormant, the HRSMN
Holier than thou, the omen child
Chief Smoking-cloud
Birds fly into a crown, then fall upon my head
And just like a Psalm I read
Coming back [?]
[Chorus: Blakkamore]
[Verse 4: Ras Kass]
Never
Undefeated like the internet
[?], tossing salad with the vinaigrette
I get arugula with the intellect, introspect
From where the street code and Islam intersect
I took my name from a descendent of Menelik
Ras Kass forced kings to give respect
And of course the queens genuflect
Offer to take my royal seat in a [?] for the intercept
Blood of a pharaoh in the ghetto
Rose that grew out the dents in the meadow
A terrorist is what the big army call a little army
Police the biggest gang in America [?]
They will still kill or harm me
Six million ways, pick one
Either victorious or the victim
My skin tone a crown of thorns
Reveals the line of David every time a god is born
[Verse 5: Chino XL]
Just a little something
[?], the world shatterer that splatters your bladder matter
Then catapult the data to the devil in the hereafter
You’re Billy Jacobs, you fuck your own mother with a dirty foreskin
I’m bringing in exhaust and adrenaline that’s endorsing the endorphins
Higher than nauseous martians riding with the HRSMN
Of course he can slice you like a Corsican
Morphing into porcelain Puerto Rican orphan that’s born again
Into the morning mist then launching a scorching ocean
And carving a great white shark and an orca’s fin into ornament
Been a king since the Art of Origin
Fuck a new nigga and I don’t give a fuck what old school nigga you unfolded out of a storage bin
Y’all shouldn’t even exist, calm down
Sounding like someone purchased you the verses from wish dot com
When it comes to dragging you, I wrote the manual so change my name to Manual
Slice and stabbing you with an angle you will di-agonal
I’m feared and proven, I’m a weird and proven as the clear by Rick Rubin
Wild animals be like, “Chino, that’s my spirit human”
Your body of work I’m bruising
Syllables crisp, I’m sick of it whenever insensitive, inventive, put an ’s’ in the word lisp
Sacrificing when your man’s wearing a ceremonial mask
While riding [?], you should probably start an onlyfans
[Chorus: Blakkamore]
