They call me lyrical...Jesus They call me lyrical...Jesus I'm only second to...Jesus I'm only lyrical...Jesus
Now as I'm peeling myself down off of the crucifix Smiling like Jesus in the den of thieves tempting bitches Like the serpent tempted Eve Making it rain for seven days and seven nights Had several beats and several careers and several fights My lyrical rites make your spine hottest My rhymes stand out like a white boy on the Globetrotters Only child stuck up, selfish Buy my records and shine my shoes, treat a nigga like Elvis Ancient, melodic, mystic messiah Make MC's heads bob like Muhammad Ali's from Parkinson's disease Flows you get lost in Louder than Michael Irvin when he's snortin' Taking a time machien to talk my mommy into giving an abortion I don't want to hear you wack motherfuckers hating me Niggas is Australian they're so far beneath me Ever since Pac dissed me, Jersey tried to front on me Now I'm so vain/vein you could probably draw blood from me So why you doubtin? I'm embezzling more money than Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's accountant And spitting blood like Gene Simmons but that's irrelevant This industry prays I go away like Arrested Development Smilin(?) in a tenement Now they got me on rewind to dig up a piece of my mind But if y'all dig any deeper you might not like what you find Pac died and I cried but I'mma represent it When it comes to dissing my shit make Makaveli sound like Macarena Jesus Christ superstar immunity Got you apologizing like Marlon Brando did the whole Jewish community Hiding like Anne Frank, your mind is stomped like I wrote Mein Kampf Changing stone rhymes to bread with one wave of my hands Son of God, defy me better have a whole army Or make plans to leave America using the maps of Marcus Garvey Back up off me, nah nigga it ain't all good My name is offa more blocks than Lexuses is Puerto Rican neighborhoods Make you shut the fuck up, like wifey when the fight's on Lyrical Jesus, I got Satan sleeping with the lights on I have existed before man and will exist after man I am an everyman yet I am no man therefore I am a God Sounds odd But my talent is priceless So I rise on the wicked and the good And rain on the righteous and the unrighteous
Jesus They call me lyrical...Jesus I'm a spiritual...Jesus I'm only second to...Jesus
Straigt up, yo Kurt drop some old school shit Drop an old beat so we can reminsce on something check it
Rappers stepping to me...they wanna get some But I'm XL so yo, you know the outcome Another victory, keep that gun in your holster My rhymes is off the wall like my Big Daddy Kane poster I gets a lot of love the beat searchers hate it man Come as recycled bullshit but you're leaving as a Chino fan That's how I know I'm God; nobody believes in me I make you wait while I stand in handicapped parking legally Erik Estrada making chips Handling fists to get rich I'm going overboard like strong-willed Africans off of ships Illest lyrics ever invented, said it, meant it You're hearing more claps than inside a Vietnam V.D. clinic, get it? Listen inattentive and get no wins Don't make me get beside myself like identical twins My cynical friends still quoting my old rhymes, my mind is a gold mine The shit is bugged like Martin Luther King's phone lines Closed minds mass phenomenon, starving like Ramadan If lines was episodes of Star Trek you niggas couldn't Kling-on Bugged out metaphor Got east coast bitches saying "No he didn't" While down south bitches be like "Oh no, hell no" I made a man blind So he didn't have to witness the wickedness of world gone cold Falling off on stages like Bob Dole Trying to keep my balance Cause good and evil are having a custody battle over my soul Like Macaulay Culkin's parents My hair's like lamb's wool, so fuck what your friends say You don't want to get off on the wrong foot like Kunta Kente So now it's going down, ta-dow Niggas better learn how to rhyme Before they tell the lyrical Jesus he should bow down Love your enemies, even in the lion's den Turn them to a pillar of salt, forgive them Father they know not why they sin Niggas coming sideways, and I've been that in the past But now I'm half past giving a shit And at a quarter 'til I'mma bust your fucking ass!
Just chill
They call me lyrical...Jesus They call me lyrical...Jesus I'm only second to...Jesus They call me lyrical...Jesus
I'm sending rappers to... Guess I have to explain this one too.
Compositores: Kurt Matlin (Matlin Zeek Kurt), Derek K Barbosa ECAD: Obra #5698106