When I was a little kid, my mother told me not to stare into the sun. So once when i was six, I did. The doctors didn't know if my eyes would ever heal. I was terrified, alone in that darkness. Slowly, daylight crept in through the bandages, and I could see. But something else had changed inside of me.
Mr. Lif:
I'm the fire bearer/
Holder of the sun/
The Earth and the universe combined as one/
An everlasting energy taking all forms/
Blue skies on sunny days terrible storms/
The one who tears down what you adorin/
And curses the material things that you mourn/
But look up in the sky 'cause I am the don/
And the light that empowers your flesh as you yawn/
Strong/
Undeniably so/
Lif better known as the society bro/
The diety blow/
Reach into my center/
I bet you feel pleasure and pain as you enter/
The tormenter/
Pleaser/
Embracer, squeezer/
As your skeleton crush/
Your physical turned into gelatin plus/
Due to overstimuli/
You liquefy/
I, send you back to the Earth soil/
To quench the turmoil/
Then the ground splits/
For all the corportations and cops/
And give birth to rocks/
So we can have solid ground on which to walk/
Stand strong and talk/
Who write down theories in chalk on the sidewalk
Hook: Samples
JusAllah:
My style orbits/
Around nine planets of forces/
Ominous metaphorics in vision of double corpses/
Lion horder/
Mad science'll slash authors/
Present the type of horror that boils your Holy water/
Get warped with the knowledge that folds the Holy father/
Hard boys become toys inside the real saga/
So why bother?/
My whole floor alliance is harder/
So bring the drama/
We all know that science is smarter/
I set off crowds, style wild like a circus/
I seek new souls, when I walk past churches/
Allah praise you, stay true to a divine purpose/
Seekin' out the wise wherever the God searches/
Flows that I embark will leave your squadron shadow dodgin'/
Lyrics are softened/
Like slugs that fill compartments/
No options/
Narrow odds/
F*ckin' with Gods/
Is straight gamblin' with your tarot cards
Hook
Vinnie Paz:
Open the gates of Midian, for the fangs like the flesh/
Three cyborgs who Bang like Ladesh/
We hang the best/
Spit venom until your face burn/
Yet the critics are parasitic like a tapeworm/
The hate burn, scathe an urn of a Buddhist/
Snake turn, the fake yearn, kiss of Judas/
We take lives with knives steady abusin ya/
With the viscious intention to dent in your uvula/
Bruisin' ya/
With text of a Harvard Class/
Ikon will smash into shards of glass/
To reform into a whirlwind of sand/
Then reborn into the world Hologram/
A solid man with plans to entwine matter/
Minds splatter from the grind of my divine hammer
Hook