Kublai Khan

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Vinnie Paz] God hates me, never keep my banger on safety My mother raised me alone, you can't break me My heart's pumping the blood of Royce Gracie My thoughts dumping the slug and point straightly You rhyme fakely, you still scarred I'm studying deep thoughts like Bill Maher I'm real raw, we just dumbing it out And y'all ain't saying nothing with a gun in yo mouth That's what I'm about, but Vinnie Paz go deeper Y'all still under the spell of dose ether The Grim Reaper, it's all nature And every word from Allah is on paper We all hate ya, we can't stand you Chapter 8: Verse 3, Book of Daniel You like a candle, you just burn You never worship Allah, you can't learn [Chorus: Stoupe] I melt mics 'til the soundwave's over America's Cream Team, redeemed Brainwashed kid Rhymin' is my [?] All y'all crab bitches ain't gotta worry [Verse 2: Goretex] Cannibal spaceship, taste dust spliffs, hits from The Matrix Pig Destroyer, Anarchist kiss, splatter your patriots Make coke schnaps, injecting my pockets with Botox Latex bitches be choking on cock like Blow-Pops My flow's hot, my Glock's like a popular friend Sniffing Oxycontin, we rock till the popular says Mercyful Fate, we At the Gates, I hurt you for cake This red planet's like a shit magnet, encounters with Jake Digital cuffs, running from the D's and the fuzz Gut you out, rockin' gas masks, bleeding and stuff Into the Void like Blue Velvet, goons and clerics New synthetic designer jewels for moons and deserts In Heaven and Earth, barcodes to measure my girth That's like the JDL joining the Zulu Nation for turf Birth of the solar, we did somar, write for the cobra Goretex, freedom, we all stand with iced-out comas [Chorus: Stoupe] I melt mics 'til the soundwave's over America's Cream Team, redeemed Brainwashed kid Rhymin' is my [?] All y'all crab bitches ain't gotta worry [Verse 3: Tragedy Khadafi] Now what it be's like, niggas wanna stay tight, I stay right Face fight, get your wig split, shit, then I spit Most Accurate, Lex right in back of it Range on the side of it, yo, I'm trying to get a lot of it I rock that exotic shit, spit the hottest shit Blow trial, might get the same time Gigante get Death before dishonor shit, gangster persona shit Jedi Mind, two-five is who I polly with When I'm trying to score the third, it's who I holler with Yo' hood, it's my project, exchange objects Yo' guns for my TEC's, yo' range for my Lex From QB to Philly, we control set I stay splurging, heads stay wrapped in Turbans Tighter than a virgin or Ford Excursion, nigga So how you figure that we don't be repping? Wholesale drugs and weapons in the Dodge Intrepid, nigga [Outro: Goretex] Yo, Stoupe, what up, baby, what's good? [Tragedy Khadafi] Jedi Mind, the gracious, two-five collabo Aura check, global, gangster global