Mac Arthur Park
Hasmonian Dynasty, Maccabean Revolt
Come down on you, Masada arose the beloved
Daddy Rose, Prodigal Sunn, Masada the eagle scholar
Back to P stone nation, Red Dawn to the death, nigga
Violins play, Rose petals fly in the wind
Mans bargaining with fallen angels but he dies in his sin
The world is in chaos, many try to pretend
I stop smoking weed now I get high off my pen
Grandma抯 alcoholic she might die off the gin
Devil smirks I grab a gun and blow off his grin
I spend my days inhaling in the sun rays
Thirsty youth i
Handwriting on the Wall
[Ras Kass]
We on some Phantom of the Opera shit
It's the gothic shit
As I produce the Waterproof mask
You never ask the question, "Who's the man behind the red mask?"
About to a driveby on MC's so listen
Aiyyo!
Yo my mic check is Robo-Tech
Run over the track till my lyrical GigaPet slow flow
Cardiac arrest like FloJo, rock ice Ro-Ro
Pack fo-fo fo' sure though
More and more cream, and niggaz Still Love You Rakeem
The game of death, we kickin niggaz in the chest like Kareem
My wingspan is wider than Rodan
My sweet and sour niggaz wit nose candy sniff blow by the gram
I gramatically slam, before I eat a groupie bitch pussy
The Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan is eatin ham
So catch me in Deep Space Nine
Wit eight million stories on seven continents
And six billion bullets on the Star Trek
Solid state logic thug niggaz electronic
Eat, drink, sleep, shit, fuck, build and smoke chronic
Playa, this is not a game, I said it before
went through the door I came wit Wu-Tang
The Artist Formerly Know as You
Got snatched out his truck on Florence and Normandy Duke
We strictly Digital
[Bobby Digital]
Yo, yo, yo, yo
The Last Starfighter, my thoughts make the sun shine brighter
I bust in a bitch mouth to make her teeth seem whiter
Roam like space drones through all time zones
Your face get blown, I make home, Bobby'll fuck Grace Jones
Mocha caps without lithium cristal
Raise the pendulum cuts through your ear tissue, Digital signal
Scramble your brain then we gain the visuals
Like Microsoft, I might micro-walk before the lights go off
You develic bitches, I give your tonsils eighty stitches
Bobby long storm, even fuck the Eastwick Witches