Top of the world
Yet I aint never left my head to turn and look back
Every second page is anthem
Perfected writ mood
In the perfect world I set the perfect mood
And in perverted abodes, I claim rogue
Enflame clothes and sing songs of underdepression love
Chemical imbalanceship, paranoia
My scientist fiction, I kick space raps that's down to Earth and
The kids that get dubs are the only ones that wanna listen
My words are my world, believe it or not they mean a lot to some
Can't say that I'm ahead of time, I fear that my time will never come
Can't exist outside the bottle, you'll crack under pressure
No aggression, why they've got to learn,
if they don't things won't get any better
Listenin' to God burn objects of animal animating
in a still life picture of the La Brea tar pit
Walking the surface of my red carpet
These are distress signals spanning you and I
Inversatile if anyone here's a soul survivor of a dying civilization
A galaxy called integrity (In that belt called creativity)
But it's not a black corpse, snuffed by a cold world, I keep warm
By burning dead bodies smelling the beats and never cess
So, um, you can walk the streets until the building no longer remains
My people are my people, comrades, and allies, the lines are drawn
This is my gold tank, everywhere I go don't belong
I'm known by most, hated by many, endured by the rest
Police in dead skin, I'm so East,
well then why did I end up on the West???
Don't wanna sacrifice my cadence,
and sentence structure design of my rhymes, etc.
ANTICON, hip-hop music for the advancement of mankind
More than an egomanical sarcastic label for a movement
So when the chain still smells
like a million dead corpses and kerosene marching
To burn down the walls of the village and storm the castle,
run up the damsels
Take 'em to the river, now we can spawn
This aint premillenium tension, it's the result of too much free time,
On dusty fingers, and it'll be a wonderful ride
A million bleeding hearts composing prose in blood
To live and die a thousand times