![]() Sold Luther that 9 Milli luger, attack the mic like a cougar geeked up Got phony thugs scared to speak up, make a nigga Balls freeze up, lay parallel to concrete, spraying Caps, tearing your knees up. Mara-thon lyrics, corny critics can’t run the next mile Abandoned outcasts in exile, never seen again Tossed or lost into the X-Files. Niggas ain’t my son Gods treat you like a stepchild, take your booty Wack sex style, flush it in the cess pile. Skiing uptown’ll leave your brain frozen Gat explosion leave warm blood flowing Internal organs exposing correlation to the cosmos Urban legends up the block, street theologians Headline a bill, throw a jewel at your grill, blackened steel Bring the heat like military fire drills, drop a Bombshell for real, units move half a mill, with or without A record deal, still give these crab industry, En Vogue Motherfuckers “Something They Could Feel,” aviator wristwear Elevated textiles, imported Timberlands from Switzerland scuffing up your reptiles. ‘Til Judgment Day, I’ll be my own Lord Self-Preservation be my religion, fly in the fastest Lane chosen, wings protected like safe sex in a la-tex Trojan. Believe me, believe me Ayyo, peace while I rest on this Pigeon whose back I’m digging. That’s bad, man! That is bad, bad, bad! He ain’t never done, that been never done on a record before. Move mountains in telekinetic mode Escape the straight and narrow, floating over your pathetic road Rhymes written in genetic codes, Flightpope Ro’ perched Atop Five Pillars of Hip Hop, aesthetic soul. In jail, ain’t nothing to do but work out Jerk off, go to war, or play chess-what’s your degree? Cop a plea, change your story like the weatherman? Whatever Man, you ain’t fly like Rodan, you fly like Peter Pan In Never Never Land. Wise winds from the East squeezing at The Beast and stray West, gods locked down do the science and let The day bless. Off the top of the locker Cleats on the mic, kicking flows, balling like soccer Slow niggas rambling on and on incoherently Like Chewbacca, used to be on the block corner, snow rock Betty Crocker, chrome showing, dome glowing, blowing Jewels growing out the side of my crown chakra You’re a killer gorilla or a babbling baboon? Part-time Wack-rhyming, no-bottom-line, circus-rapping buffoon On some pop shit like a balloon, carry out paper quest To stay fresh, stuck in a gay lifestyle, switching Like Mae West. Blowing like Jon Faddis, atomic air Traffic blacking out your stratosphere. Fronting with your mouth open, let me empty out My bladder here. Coyote rhymers copped your wack raps From the factory at ACME-just the facts, B Urban dragnet, supreme architects serving dialect Bell curve side effect, Caucus Asian, latter years Coconut, almond, spiced Bacardi Dark, no taste for Flatter beers. How the fuck you gonna blast? You ass Like Andy Kaufman reading from the Great Gatsby Relax, G, get gassed up or let your lungs collapse, B Collect more gross income ‘cause my galactic rap status is Tax-free. ![]() There’s no doubt that this is the same Rodan who comes from Monster Island : What’s gone wrong with him?!? Yo, fuck the intro Yo, keep crowds hailing me like a taxi, learned there’s more to life Than busting gats, B. ![]() The attack started at 11 o’clock, and now he has destroyed everything in the city. Rodan) - “Sumthin’ to Prove” : This is a special broadcast. ![]()
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