by Rodan
on Theophany: The Book Of Elevations (2004)
[Emcee(s): Rodan]
[Producer(s): X-Ray Da Mindbenda]
[Verse 1: Rodan]
Yo, f*ck the intro. Yo, keep
Crowds hailing me like a taxi, learned there's more to life than busting gats, B
How the f*ck you gonna blast? You ass like Andy Kaufman reading
From the Great Gatsby. Relax, G, get gassed up
Or let your lungs collapse, B. Collect more gross income ‘cause my
Galactic rap status is tax-free. Wile E. Coyote rhymers
Copped your wack raps from the factory at ACME—just the
Facts, B. Urban dragnet, supreme architects serving dialect
Bell curve side effect, Caucus Asian, latter years
Coconut, almond, spiced Bacardi Dark, no taste for flatter
Beers. Fronting with your mouth open, let me empty out my bladder here
Blowing like Jon Faddis, atomic air traffic blacking out
Your stratosphere. Off the top of the locker, cleats on the mic
Kicking flows, balling like soccer. Slow nigg*s rambling
On and on incoherently like Chewbacca, used to be on the block
Corner, snow rock, Betty Crocker, chrome showing, dome
Glowing, blowing, jewels growing out the side of my crown chakra
You're a killer gorilla or a babbling baboon? Part-time
Wack-rhyming, no-bottom-line, circus-rapping buffoon
On some pop sh*t like a balloon, carry out paper quest to stay
Fresh, stuck in a gay lifestyle, switching like Mae West
Wise winds from the East squeezing at The Beast and stray West
Gods locked down do the science and let the day bless. In jail
Ain't nothing to do but work out, jerk off, go to war, or play chess
What's your degree? Cop a plea, change your story like the weatherman?
Whatever, man, you ain't fly like Rodan, you fly like
Peter Pan in Never Never Land. Move mountains in telekinetic mode
Escape the straight and narrow, floating over your pathetic road
Rhymes written in genetic codes, Flightpope Ro' perched atop
Five Pillars of Hip Hop, aesthetic soul. Come on
[Hook: Rodan]
Some rappers want to make you move, nigg*s and bitches shake and groove
Some emcees just show and prove, you pick and choose: win, draw, or lose
If you got nothing to prove, lock down your niches, spit your groove
Take you on a lyric cruise. Rappers pay our dues, ain't sh*t to prove
[Verse 2: Rodan]
Ayyo
Peace while I rest on this pigeon whose back I'm digging. ‘Til Judgment Day
I'll be my own Lord, Self-Preservation be my religion, fly in
The fastest lane chosen, wings protected like safe sex in a la-
-tex Trojan. Skiing uptown'll leave your brain frozen
Gat explosion leave warm blood flowing, internal
Organs exposing correlation to the cosmos, urban legends
Up the block, street theologians. Headline a bill
Throw a jewel at your grill, blackened steel bring the heat like military
Fire drills, drop a bombshell for real, units move
Half a mill, with or without a record deal, still give these crab
Industry, En Vogue motherf*ckers “Something They Could Feel”
Aviator wristwear, elevated textiles, imported Timberlands
From switzerland scuffing up your reptiles. nigg*s ain't my son
Gods treat you like a stepchild, take your booty wack
Sex style, flush it in the cess pile. Marathon lyrics
Corny critics can't run the next mile. Abandoned outcasts
In exile, never seen again, tossed or lost into the
X-Files. Sold Luther that 9 milli luger, attack the mic
Like a cougar geeked up, got phony thugs scared to speak up
Make a nigg* balls freeze up, lay parallel to
Concrete, spraying caps, tearing your knees up. 2000
Years, we'll reappear, change the Earth in worldly ways
Ancient of days, come to show the blind God in the form of a man
That is worthy of praise, investigate doctrines, high awareness
Through my lifetime, social issues that incite crimes
Make a generation of scholars live existence between the white lines
No more sniffing, saying, “f*ck a 9 to 5.” Now all I do
Is f*cking write rhymes, DJs scratch the wax like
Shaved balls, rabblerouse the popped dog like rebel slave calls
Navigate the southern state like maze halls, chain
Shining medallion swinging like stalactites on cave walls
Bounce the rhythm like a tambourine, step up on the scene
With a monster theme and a third world dream, impale bubblegum
Rap stars on microphones infected with gangrene
Deconstruct contemporary pop culture to reinvent my own mainstream
Come on
[Hook: Rodan]
Some rappers want to make you move, nigg*s and bitches shake and groove
Some emcees just show and prove, you pick and choose: win, draw, or lose
If you got nothing to prove, lock down your niches, spit your groove
Take you on a lyric cruise. Rappers pay our dues, ain't sh*t to prove
[Verse 3: Rodan]
Yo, my name
Was Rodan before the wack Godzilla blockbuster, my name was
Rodan before stellar dust collected into the first star cluster
Set up shop at the pearly gates, move an ounce while defending ‘em
Cherubim on the mic, lyrically descended from Big Daddy Kane
And Rakim and ‘em. Golden Age legacy platinum writer of a new era
Second millennium, triple CD blazing up like three flavors
Of tropical weeds when you're blending ‘em, connect ghetto slums
To heavens, turn opposites to synonyms, bend grammar like antimatter
Distort the space-time-rhyme continuum, Five Percent
Rhetorical, prophecies like an oracle, bad luck to emcees
Like a Kennedy, reach across infinity, reestablish
My divinity between me and the eternally great enmity
Imagine a natural-born enemy befriending me. Offending me
With what you pretend to be. How the f*ck you a killer with blatant
hom*osexual tendencies? Come on
[Hook: Rodan]
Some rappers want to make you move, nigg*s and bitches shake and groove
Some emcees just show and prove, you pick and choose: win, draw, or lose
If you got nothing to prove, lock down your niches, spit your groove
Take you on a lyric cruise. Rappers pay our dues, ain't sh*t to prove
Rappers want to make you move, nigg*s and bitches shake and groove
Some emcees just show and prove, you pick and choose: win, draw, or lose
If you got nothing to prove, lock down your niches, spit your groove
Take you on a lyric cruise. Rappers pay our dues, ain't sh*t to prove
