Precognition

[Emcee(s): Rodan] [Producer(s): Timbaland (Original Instrumental from Timbaland ft. Drake - “Say Something”)] [Verse: Rodan] Abracadabra, read the chapter Original head-slapper, land-clapper, red snapper. Pour one out For every dead rapper, remember the beef 'Cause the most unique emcee of all time died on November 13th. Dynasty of the ten pharaohs Rubber grips with the twelve-inch barrels, no illusions Serious artists, you delusion, delirious And retarded. With great power comes great danger like Being born inside Bethlehem inside a manger. Eclectic messages Like Tyra's titties talking to me at night, telling me to build a temple Of top of her breasteses, using levers to outweigh The snow in Geneva, unbalanced like, “Motherfucker, I’m a Monsta You’s a single-cell amoeba.” Kaiju goo-goo in Honolulu With a few clues. Who want a new crew with a cool Jewel and a nice view of the zoo? Monsta, I manhandle you Bearhandle animals, hold a bear by his mandibles Cold-stone army, “Thuggish Ruggish” like Bones-n-Harmony Closing the pharmacy, the phones of ring tones alarming me Verses are clips, I’m full spitting, tomahawk you like Sitting Bull. Cocksucking faggot, I ain’t bullshitting Heheh, you don’t belong to the streets while Ro’ Known to snatch victory out the jaws of the beat From a Century 21st precinct, it was the first instinct Quicker than a mini blink wink or a swift swim Sinking down the kitchen… …them clowns is weak, so I increase My prescription up to about an ounce a week. Handyman Always bring the proper hammer and pay no attention To Illuminati propaganda. Already exposed To so many schools of thought. Not even for a second or a first Never believe what the fools is taught. Shots of Patrón Mixed with cortisone, swing steel, turn this Mic into a swordophone, retro styles and gold chains Old-school for real, take it back to Miles and Coltrane Leave out the hip-hop, Big Bam back to the Big Bang Can’t understand it. Those ain’t irises you see When you look deeply into my eyes, bitch, those are planets ADB can’t do the aftermath, remember the last one ‘Cause this is faster blast, laughing gas mask from the past MC equals Master Cash, intentions Not just to be a mighty king, so first and foremost To stand as a most righteous being from the evening star ‘Til the day is gone at B.B. King's headliner With Jimi Hendrix and Stevie Ray Vaughan. Come on, dawg You’re hitting my elbows. Cocksucker, it’s time for you to Burn in Hell slow. Hell to the no, fatal blows For whom the bell tolls. Feet purple, leap the hurdle. Peep the circle Fell asleep, creepin' up on Myrtle, too much Cursing. Feel the touch, I’m murdering, motherfuckers be like “He used to be such a good person.” Hurt ‘em. You got Those small visions, I got my ayatollah mission. You still Trapped behind the walls of the system, from the malls to the prisons Causing all y’all to listen, I stay strapped Wrap you up in a ball of submission, no way to tap Tap the fuck out! Aim has all the precision, Hall of Fame Flame-broilers’ edition. Small-claim crawlers, fall into position Terminator of recognition, somebody please kill him Step on these cockroach maggots like an ignition Make the deaf, dumb, and blind stop, look, and listen. The brand-new Addiction, brand-new prescription, brand-new predictions Brand-new premonitions, brand-new ambitions, brand-new Conditions. Drop science so heavy, the brand-new addition First aboard the precipice of the church, yelling out to the Neophytes, sycophants, “Motherfuck your new religion!” Kill ‘em