If you could rule the land and have the earth’s sands in the palms of your hands imagine commanding Iran. If you could conquer this land, from the borders of Europe and Afghanistan to North Japan.
Feel the wrath of a man. I embrace and grasp the math like an Egypt African; faster than NASA and seeing a flying saucer fly in the sky, while it’s happening. If I reveal it, my secret would set your souls ablaze just like the phoenix. I already see it: the people would crown me the king of Egypt. I would have to lead it, and you will follow as the world chronicles. Astronomical bombs explode; demonic souls hold nuclear controls, atomic codes, to make the world fold.
Once I arose, they told me I was chosen to save the globe. I’m the child that’s gold, I’ve come from the Nile. My style is known. The real X-File’s in my dome. My poems are shown across Rome engraved into Michelangelo’s Statue in the actual stone. So let’s battle for thrones, let’s see who is King and who will come home. I’ve never suffered syndromes while tacklin’ a nigga’s ass in the end zone. Test me, and you will get your men blown backwards when I get heartless, and spit at my target, rip apart shit, click in the cartridge. Hip Hop is bliss, I’m honest, while 85 percent of these kats are garbage.
Emcees and mad niggaz – they talk the nonsense, but verbally, on the mind, they have no contents. What’s on your conscience? I am the King, roll out the carpet.
My man will see me on the island of Santarini, and on covers of CDs, on TV, speaking my language weekly. When I write a verse fans say it on the other side of the earth: Mediterranean, Mesopotamian, even Albanians, Arabians – inside my cranium.
It’s Satan’s state we’re staying in, it’s Damien. The world is breaking in for homosapians. But Elijah’s wise. I see the fire in the skies, the higher tides. Survive or die, try to stay alive, because when Mars collides with the earth at the crack of sunrise We’ll feel cautious – earth’s surface, knocked out of orbit. Satellites record it. Armageddon is right before us.
There’s no pretending when I start ending your whole dimension. You’ll beg for prevention, after you hear my name was mentioned. My rhymes accelerate my brain’s engine. – We’re representing. The shit that I’m inventing – It’s so hot you’ll need the air conditioned to listen. I will knock the atmosphere way out of position; I’m gifted, a whiz kid, raised by Egyptians, a misfit until I absorbed the lessons of hieroglyphics. The days are written. Things are changing and going different. The nights are viscous. When I write my life, it is printed in scripture – a chemist who’s sicker. A sinless nigga’, holding the trigger. My eyes are quicker. That’s why my eyes paint the picture. My wisdom’s a river hidden in back of my brain’s prism. Yet and still I question, then listen: why is it that the cops constantly shootin – Females on the block for prostitution The new Final Solution. The human life form is quite confusing, also amusing. The road you’re choosing is either gold, or cold confusion. We’re missing rules, and they aren’t what they wrote in the Constitution.
My thoughts are deep. First the people will get caught in the street. I’ll extort your peeps, and force your fleet to take a retreat, so get off my meat. Else you will be lost in deceit. You’ll get caught with the heat. My techniques on beats: when I speak in speech it keeps the peeps on the edge of their seats. I’m hip hop’s savior. My pen gets intimate with the paper, the beat love-maker, Elijah nigga! My shit Is major! I rhyme for hours with Einstein electrical mind powers blindin’ these cowards. I’m your reigning king, and I rule with murder showers!
My torcher is lethal. I’ll show people the forces of evil – with weapon though. I’ll let you know, when it’s time for the next episode. My energy level will behead you: enemies, rebels, gods and devils. Your squad will get scarred from the metal. In large ghettoes, predicaments are always belligerent, why is this?
I’m gonna’ line up the pyramids, and do an Einstein experiment. I’ll have the stars properly positioned, aligned with ancient written astronomy, rehearse a verse from mythic philosophy, to show how my text connects with Plato’s Odyssey. The information is indicating that one day they’re gonna blow up this whole nation. Multiple corporations will control half the population in this operation, ultimately destroying whole civilizations. It’ll take place through different procedures, nonbelievers and believers, real leaders, all of whom act out the wishes of Caesar.
I did my research, and if those scientists leave earth, I’m not going be jerked. I’m holding up that shuttle, E’s first. I’m up in that rocket suited up with the astronauts, zipped up with my fingers crossed inside my pockets. They do major projects, and think that I don’t know the logic, but I know the topic – I’m an academic controlling a mind with infinite wattage. Once they leave the tropics, leaving us stranded on the planet, it’s panic and damage, bio-contaminants leaving us empty-handed, scitzofranic, minds going wild, losing all sense of time, man, woman and child, they can’t manage, at a disadvantage, because you didn’t listen to Commandments.