War In Heaven Pt. I

Lyrics

Rodan - "War In Heaven Pt. I" [Emcee(s): Rodan] [Producer(s): RAVAGE] [Intro: Rodan] Come on [Verse 1: Rodan] Yo, we don't Speak the same language, so you might need a translator for this, cousin Sling syllables by the dozen, slick literary Metaphor for popping slugs, pushing and copping drugs and One-dimensional frame of reference made you think it wasn't Next time, try and consider the entire context before Trying to make a judgement. Feel the shame of your guilt complex Look in your face, see you're jealous. Bet you wish these filthy crackers Would try to put us back in chains and try to sell us Bet you wish a mythological Prince of Darkness show up, we're losing here In contracts, put us on a bound-to-Hell bus Analogies pertinent to these commercial industry shenanigans Let out piss on your empire, heart turning black No turning back like Anakin. It's Rodan again, here to Establish wealth with this rap shit. Peep the name, peep the Strategy, it's anti-gravity, lifting you up with empty Gat clips, dedicated to false images on television Faggot Klansmen never charged with terrorism Innocent black man convicted and fills up the prisons. My only Religion is self-preservation and anti-establishmen- -tarianism, settle it with gats or fists, hand palms Mask Glocks, eight bombs clap to this post- -nuclear activist, Ten Percent take the ass-whipping Like a world class masochist. Just 'cause I was an underground rapper You thought I was a backpacking pacifist? Put extraneous pressure on the joints to increase the stretch of the muscle Keep it subtle with the bare knuckle. No, nothing sweet Lasts forever, so, every week, we get a different hustle Dipped head-to-toe in Kevlar like it was Nike, create culture To conquer the collective consciousness, American psyche Mapping plans for steady sailing. One tran- -saction, your world already failing. Support the group or rock The solos like Eddie Van Halen or, better yet, Coltrane And John kicking High Steps. What's the science, clown? That's a strong man in your circus? I'ma shoot him in the biceps Smack a gargoyle, jack him for his steroids Annoyed, leave him destroyed, null and void. I write rhymes Like scriptures, you write rhymes like fucking tabloids [Verse 2: Rodan] Been everywhere and back, and these fools are still steady doubting Never realizing faith the size of a mustard seed can move the heaviest Of mountains. Jewels I'm counting, but never cast pearls To swine, Faggot Evil De-vines and prostitutes In blue suits. Ten centuries from now, still burning down the booth Saying, "Give it to me straight," 'cause, unlike Tom Cruise I can handle the truth. A few good men on the verge of a third murder To ride tracks and rock beats. We be the Ivy League Caliber intellectuals that be loving the streets Where the rare flare missiles crack on the middle of the Little Apple Snatched off so much ice, made niggas wanna jump up And land a triple axel. We never landed on Plymouth Rock So fuck where the pilgrims settle. The point of impact Keep you intoxicated from the smell of freshly oiled gunmetal Soldiers assembling, cowards are trembling, remembering Abolishing bullshit like I was Ro' Waldo Emerson Considering, so accustomed to running on one hundred Percent adrenaline, disassembling feeble joints for the Sharpness of needle points and stick it to a rap show critic Still stacking crack-blow digits. Shit ain't just Ass-shaking and entertainment, it's tantamount to rocket science As intricate as astrophysics, infinite and Afrocentric