It’s the sound of science.
It’s the sound of science.
And if you want beef, then bring the ruckus.
You think that you can front when revelation comes?
I bomb atomically, Socrates’ philosophies and hypotheses can’t define how I be droppin’ these mockeries.
No sleep ‘till Brooklyn.
Another dimension, new galaxy, intergalactic planetary.
‘Cause you can’t, you won’t, and you don’t stop.
It’s just that I’m old school like that, roll that rap over soul loops like that.
Superbad, who am I? Dolemite classic.
Obviously, they came to portion up his fortune, sounds to me like that old robbery extortion.
Tillin’ the wasteland sands, raps on backs of treasure maps, stacks to the ceilin’ fan.
What is there to talk about? You was just frontin’, now it ain’t nothin’, ain’t that somethin’?
I sell rhymes like dimes.
We holding onto what’s golden, on a stage I rage and I’m rollin’.
This is it, what? Luchini pouring from the sky.
Yo, my words should never fail, shootin’ darts sharper than a carpenters nail.
I want leverage, ice cold beverage, money I can’t count, I blacked out standing on Mount Everest.
Dear New York, I hope you’re doing well. I know a lot’s happened and you’ve been through hell.
When you cross my mind, you best look both ways ‘cause my personality’s bigger than yours.