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(feat. Alaska, Cryptic Of Atoms) |
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[Vast Aire] |
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Yo, I ain't superstisious but these niggaz is nice |
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[Cryptic] |
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A lot of cats pop shit, I pop apocalypse |
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Toppin propaganda force fed to the populace |
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My thoughts run the gamut from outstandin to preposterous |
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On top of this I move posteriors |
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Brother impoverished the +pac shuries+ |
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My process: accomplish through percevierence |
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Every man's not my brother regardless of appearence |
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Apprehension clouds the spirit |
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Tension prepares us for ascension |
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And at his best is when he breaks conventions |
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A convenient covenant coveted for conception |
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We're all from the same mold: spores and bacteria |
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Those woulda fear me others would thaw hysteria |
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A claustraphobic nuerosis in this masquerade ball of fake glasses and big noses |
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Mollasses splashes explosive flows |
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Two exposed pinnocheos growin nose |
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Composed of compost compositions |
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Those clothes are gettin a little close fittin |
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I stop this shit and I'm over-confident |
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The script's compliments of my frozen mic dominance |
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A passively aggressive testament is how I'm reppin shit |
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[Vast Aire] |
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Watch Vast murder the track effortless |
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Like God's on my side and he answered my Christmas list |
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After the first couple of bars I start to smell fear |
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That's when I take them there so they can breathe Aire |
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You're so secure with your insecurity |
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Perfect world of piety I swat flies when they bother me |
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Some say I touch hearts like Kano |
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Now every time you see a mic you just say no |
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Some write with words, I write with matters |
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As my soul is brushed free Vast Aire dusty |
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In the coldest winters we thought husky |
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They be like, "I don't know his name but he aim like Wayne Gretsky" |
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That's funny, cause I don't play hockey |
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I play horse on the mic and watch em all copy |
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Left hooks left from shookin etch-a-sketching |
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Give me an entry line I'll take a mile if you let me |
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I'm not a bum, I'm a nomad, off dome |
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Thoughts have no home, the page is ours to roam |
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Cats be on some fantasy shit like Cinderella |
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Well we'll see if the shoe fits after the accapella |
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And the nascent's claimin sonnin |
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What's the penalty for that? He might never come back |
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And the atomic pressure won't lessin |
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After you've learned your lesson |
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Mister sits in a track? Yeah that's a bucket I see |
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Like a farmhand cuttin a little piggie |
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From the author I'm also the farmer stupid |
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I shoot a arrow at you and my name ain't Cupid |
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[Alaska] |
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Yo I'm mindless with this art |
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(?) while this heart gets brave |
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And a blade that's well polished and sharp |
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Intending to reinvent two spinning wheels in line |
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Just to enjoy the bumpy lives and improve upon its design |
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I take time, every plate circle's complete, love it |
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I've learned even tardy birds come to eat from it |
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Early bird gets the worm but that early worm finds a spot |
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In the early bird's stomach and can't escape from it |
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Pity the odd jocks of live stock graze amongst our mind crop |
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Beast of burdon murdered their minds one |
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Climbin nations leave these regions unexplored |
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Liberty torch the truth with sandy floors on beach shores |
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Destroy atomic gracelands def- |
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Definitine situations a complex edifice |
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Mother nature broken fucked by offspring's wreckless neglegance |
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Disruptive corruptive residence of birthin now pessimists |
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Found willingly bound in the back of yellow (?) |
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Clearly, pity anti mobius strip theories |
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Dennis Leary, Miller, and menacing cynicism visions |
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Would an oppressed bet givin his position on life's mission |
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[Vordul Megala] |
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Now listen how sick is these niggaz? |
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Atoms to illest, (catepillars/ cat pillars), And don't choke guns |
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Smoke onions crying with no funds no fun trying |
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To get by still Vordul do it and rap music |
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Tell death do us wet your noodle |
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With raps in the pot hard boil the rap gargoyles |
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Stoned at night on top of buildings Gothic |
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Like Bruce in the blue suit let's get it poppin |
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Watch it drop outa the sky in the ridin hampton where some get tackled |
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Hooks that grapple right on your Adam |
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Got you chokin off the rhyme potents |
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Stay focused while you villians stay jokin |
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Serious on the mic get ignorant |
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Delivering the rap vocals for the new mellinnium |
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We're from illeum marchin in atomic garments |
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Bombin all the nonsense..... |
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Yo, you cats ain't ready for this, heavy abyss |
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Thoughts that travel through the tunnels of scripts |
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My mic holds one in the clip and fo's packed under the dic |
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Spit rhino acapells gunnin your shit |
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Your rap plug's stuck in your whips fuckin with this |
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Over these el-pro percussion hits |
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We love to rip, love to sip, love to rep Jux to Def |
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Yeah, Atoms... |
