PWOWR (Problem Solver)

[Verse 1] Light the incense it gets intense About to invent sentence after sentence ‘Till the chapter’s immense To capture the listener’s interest With this creation it’ll take a little erasing Lots of meditation and concentration Above me, the moving constellations I move my lips like I’m conversating Ideas are combinating From five spheres of a conscious oasis Amazing, wait ‘till the rhyme begins aging I'm like all nations in the body of one man caged in Shooting rhymes from where planets are incubating My ink starts spraying, bones are decaying A throne is awaiting I zone on these phrases [Hook] I can hear the angels [Verse 2] I write scrolls Took the clothes of my future Performing lyrical Kama Sutra within my medulla Extracting the negative like a juicer Attracted to her letters I seduced her Now I'm standing naked in my thoughts Exposing the body of my memories My mind’s genitals connected with space minerals and releases relativity From male to female changing chemistry Inside that invisibility gave me the ability to be visually lyrically When I squeeze the pen, it releases effergin It gave me black swan bumps beneath my skin Perform lyrical lobotomy See the odyssey With the proper MC As the sun sets over Tibet The monks pour me more tea As I write near the stream This is more than just poetry, with the pen I'm quite extreme Just a project kid but when I write it gives me the insight of Kings My mind goes way back into the cradle of knowledge Angel Gabriel standing before this toddler The bib of high science I build a castle out of rhyming I'm the capsule and the vitamin In the womb of space In the nursery of thought In my room I would create, rehearsing my verses I would talk My Similac was the pen in rap My three eyes were the lens; it begins to snap The longer the poems the stronger my bones I'm on the desk as the writer In my mental I would wet my diapers Drinking from the bottle of Apollo Writing the Gnostics between two cosmic tigers I'm the Messiah, the solar facts, and the actual facts of rap I'm 120 degrees, an abundance of cities and seas And I’ll punish plenty MCs who try to run with my steez My tongue is a gun and it’ll squeeze I’ll burn sages, turn the pages, and I've heard these phrases [Bridge] I can hear the angels talking in the background I can walk on water My wings can flap now If I'm not here tomorrow Light a candle and say a prayer Close your eyes enter the Enterprise I'm about to take you there [Verse 3] So what’s in the psychic world of Walter Reed? With the Mic I see Isis And my rhymes open up portals for the mortals to see the immortals Gods, kings all calling for me Talking, giving me ideas from Heavy Mental To the portrait on The Offering CD Oftenly Negative thoughts cause distortion so I take caution when I lead So look both ways before crossing my mind Watch for signs Stay along each of my lines Place my rhyme envelope of quotes In the inside pocket of the jacket of History Over the long t-shirt of infinity Which hides the heart of the city I use both palms to shake the hands on the clock Time stops, I make honey come from the rock I took my rhyme buried it deep into the sands of time Let the salt water nourish it It won’t grow into a plant but something you can climb First, it starts from a pebble, to a hill, to a mountain Which will pour sweet waters down from its fountain I am the biology of belief Hip Hop is full of stars I can read astrology of the streets Psychology of the Priest Deep as the philosophy of the Greeks The prophecies from the East My mind holds the forbidden science When I’m writing Can I get a witness when I’m rhyming? Can I hear a Amen? Been doing this before cavemen Been doing this before the ancients of language Look at somebody and say God is not dead Just nod your head Listen to the bars that I said Words from the Matrix My eyes are the spaceships My mouth is the oasis I zone on these phrases I CAN HEAR THE ANGELS But hold up See why I look in the sky? Inside of my soul is all the 12 tribes And each of them channel in prayers to the Most High Simultaneously and at different times My right palm holds the strokes of one million scribes Disguised as all twenty-seven bones inside After my poem’s designed Then I zone of the rhyme In a black mist I exist I spit and the sun was born Using positive and negative protons and electrons Rhymes were nuclear explosions The atoms composing weak and strong In one billionth of a second the galaxies were formed Meteor showers, comet’s blast, loud and quiet storms In my magnificent mind the problem was solved Now let’s get creative The rhyme is the data And I heard these phrases [Outro] Look up into the heavens. What you see there is a vertical multitude Of stars thrown across the empty spaces. Whereas the whole infinity Of things might come down on us, how shall we not stand astonished And abashed in seeing the immensity of heaven, and what Greater still, that of a sovereign lord who made it? Chokma Keter . . . hip-hop is not dead. Binah . . . Malkuth . . . real lyricism Is not dead