The true we’re living, it’s spoken, getting you open like the opiates
The golden child that was floating through the fallopians
Until the lowliest be the focal of all of their phobias
I’m giving ‘em critical dosages, the sh#t that I’m kicking the holiest
Packing the heaters, clap at you faggots, you rappers Madea
I’m putting the metal to a b#tch face like Sacagawea
Conceptions immaculate just like the miraculous feed us
Your raps and demeanor was like that of a catholic preacher
My catalog is decoded from ancient Babylon
And to the sleepers, this is that Adderall mixed with Tramadol
I’m pitching it to the masses ‘til all of the captions gone
No tagalongs in my marathon, this is caviar
Never comparing this, feeling chills, sweats like malaria
Proven like them pyramids built in Mesoamerica
I’m taking ‘em on a journey to the depths of Sumerians
And I’ma keep on airing this ‘til they catch us and bury us
Blao!
The smooth vibrance describing this rap hybrid as science
Hear the sirens, violent cats our here wilding, rats
Claim silence, they lie as they ruin suppliers, mad
Priors with the iron I conspire to fire. Don’t inquire
My entire design is desire, flyer gear
Life’s sincere, sitting shottie while the buns steer
Fat #ss, the {?} spending commas up in
Benihana’s, she rub her nana with the llama
The Giancana resurrected, the rhyme perfected
f#ck a guest list. My perspective’s majestic, a method
Iron lung spit darts at Leviathan
{?} like Boomer Esiason, the messiah’s son
At war with the devils, heathens, weakened minds
Seeking freedom, rhyme, and reason, no teaching demons’ secrets
Books from Egypt, no European features
We gorgeous creatures, poor righteous teachers out your speakers
Pen a poem
Sipping a soda, y’all suck, licking the scrotum, and if you
Know him, the teacher killing features like priests to omens
I’m Constans to the Romans in Punic Wars, you’ve been warned
I told you I’m a god of war but in this human form
Aries, but y’all don’t hear me. You think this sh#t is sweet
Like Tales from the Canterbury, shit’ll get scary
Finding mostly remains from all the soldiers that came
Get you slain fresh in the spirit like a ghost with a chain
Variety from the Hyksos dynasty
I am he that walk with the shepherd, call it the Christ in me
Walking through the desert with angelic presence, I can see
The irony of how they knocked the noses off of Socrates
Peep the philosophy, trace me back to a godly gene-
-alogy, so I’m defying modern physiology
Get me a bag, and I’m overseas like The Odyssey
Forming lines like it’s pottery, y’all ain’t f#cking with Honesty
Word
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Ill Conscious Lyrics – In the S.T.R.E.E.T.S.