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