Masters of the World

Lyrics

Now once again, when DJs see me do this They was like we hate your guts and you're ruining records And they was like who the fuck do you think you are Upheaval, eruptions, abrupt evil Destructive and corrupt people Zebra and a stuffed eagle Who had trouble in the monkey house Lust for blood and bitter hatred Getting tired, setting fire to the ground that you consider sacred Monuments obliterated, dominate the rival faction Dance like zombie Michael Jackson, frightful motorcycle accident Unbridled passion, wicked witches' spells and children's prayers Pitiless cities and most insidious the billionaires Show 'em how the skill compares to the great lanky Canadian Hittin' hundred mile an hour fastballs at a yankee stadium Afraid and frankly radiant The devil wears the boldest fashion The oldest captain's back And now they're sweatin' like Aroldis Chapman Dope 'em with the coldest rappin', open up the floodgates Tribunals and club dates, dirty needles and dub plates Substrates and enzymes with end times [?] Abolish caution [?] the smallest coffins are the heaviest Blessed are the bold For they shall be masters of the world Cursed are the righteously humble For they shall be trodden under cloven hoofs Slippin' in the blackness patterns Attacking extra batting practice, straight disastrous Taking a vacation in Damascus with Das EFX Not nice but not the classic evil either Check the microphone and run it through the graphic equaliser Poison rain and lethal fire, endless stream of shitty clones Gritty tones, skinny bones, tryna pass the kidney stones Audio and videos, body blow the illest rhyming Tripping on the psilocybin, listening to Phyllis Hyman Steel sharpener, I'm the rival carpenter Warning bells of harbingers, here comes the final arbiter Garbage eater isn't subtle, some are having vision trouble Used to keep it nice and dirty, now their sound is bridge and tunnel Finding my religion function when the body dumps the soul Hardened by the months of cold The cowards are shitting lumps of coal Assumptions hold, free flowing something And the seeds sowing as they say When you're going through hell, keep going Blessed are the iron-handed The unfit shall flee before them Cursed are the poor in spirit For they shall be spat upon