Iron Galaxy

Lyrics

[Intro: The Big Chill] "I feel like everybody wants something from me" "Yeah, tell me about it – it's a cold world out there Sometimes I think I'm getting a little frosty myself" [Chorus] My shell – mechanical found ghost But my ghetto is animal found toast My shell – mechanical found ghost But my ghetto is animal found toast My shell – mechanical found ghost But my ghetto is animal found toast Animal found toast But my ghetto Animal [Verse 1: Vordul Mega] Life's ill, sometimes life might kill Vordul Mega, five digits, grab mics, mic strike type ill Is life real? Yo, ahk', he builds When life feels like Earth don't spin, whirlwinds might blend Life's at a standstill – dangerous, 'cause man kills And still cats visualize life ghetto-like One mind, sometime these cats see life Street life in complete light, and be like,  "I'ma live life after this one crime" One line from the Megallah blow spines Everyone knows the city's ill, cats kill Still black man holds nine, gotta chill, star, see A-L-L-A-H Be the light of Surah, work hard, See Cipher, A-L-L-A-H Adapt bars, snatch stars, and detach large channels But our bar's handle might break mics Vordul Megallah the cannibal ate mics Strive, live live Fuck five, I want a hundred and eight mics [Break: Vast Aire] Son, yo, son, did you see that kid, yo? Yo, yo, chill out, man, chill out Yo, son, did you, yo, son he pulled it out..." [Verse 2: Vordul Mega] Five digits, cock biddy nine milli One floor shot, silly, spun city, one verse hit milly Little girls spinning curls 360, living in a world shitty Yo, they spun young, Earth now shitty NY 5-0 might shoot black head Nigga, sorry, I sold space suit to crack head D.T.s operate mechanically, po-po in slow-mo Black kids locked away, add a key Plus one fourth pound of smoke flow While Lockheed Fabian, Ahmed Arabian, laying in Bodega holding drama AK, spoke like As-salāmu OK Choking vodka mixed with O.J.  Wig splits mad quick Spinning 3-6-oh wave, C4 blew the door Number eight, Summer face, tank top with a knot Number nine said "Run the place" Took my girl stereo – CD, plus the tape Brooke star, don't wet that, fucked her face, lets stuff the place Jet back to Santa Cruz, Californ-i-a Peace to C-God locked up, cat born nine ways Come home mad soon, live ill, life phases Like little black girl got shot Damn, it hurts when they spun, Earth filled with knots Gonna make a difference, so we get locked Caught in the shit and losing what we got Come on black equals, equals "Do you know that you're one of the few predator species That preys even on itself?" [Break: El-P] And if there's crack in a basement... [Verse 3: Vast Aire] Crack heads stand adjacent Anger displacement from food stamp arrangements You were a still-born baby Mother didn't want you but you were still born Boy meets world – of course his pops is gone, what you figure? That chalky outline on the ground is a father figure? So he steps to the next stencil, that's a hustler Infested with money and diamond cluster Let's talk in layman terms Rotten apples and big worms, early birds and poachers New York is evil at its core, so those who have more than them Prepare to be victims Ate up by vultures, the politicians In a dog-eat-dog culture, that'll sic 'em Lack of mineral, we take it personal A pigeon can't drop shit if it never flew Every day is no frills, empty krills,  Broken 40 bottles and MC's with skills I rest my head on 115 But miracles only happen on 34th, so I guess life is mean And death is the median And purgatory is the mode that we settle in (No doubt) I've got that Eve's Bayou sense of touch, so I fought To touch every hand of a fan, to read their thoughts Battered wives, molested children Roaches on the floor, rats in the ceiling Cats walk around New York with two fillings One is in their mouth, the other does the killing I'm Vast Aire Kramer – top billing [Outro] (Yo, rest in peace to Big L, 139)