lirik lagu demigodz - the gospel according to...
[intro: blacastan]
ladies and gentlemen. brothers and sisters. people all around the world. you’re now in the presence of greatness. ’cause you’re now rockin’ with the demigodz. i be your host tonight. i go by the name of blacastan. and we gon’ listen to the gospel. oh yeah, the gospel according to celph motherf-ckin’ t-tled
[verse 1: celph t-tled]
the microphone mutilator with bazookas and grenades
in excess and surplus, how effortless words come
y’all played out like charlie sheen t-shirts and coffee mugs
i’m lookin’ for ben frank so somebody best cough him up
or i’mma lunch and murder, cookin’ ribs on bunsen burners
lucky i ain’t kentucky fried so motherf-ck the colonel
barrel to your sternum, cylinder to your medulla
canister to your keister
for five stacks i’m willin’ to shoot ya
hit me out of fear and the silhouette appears
the drum magazines that resemble mickey mouse ears
get slapped in the face by the book of god
and tag you on facebook as a f-ggot tryna look hard
all you see is the sig, you ain’t seein’ the kid
i’ll rob a bank with earrings and a madea wig
flee to the crib, put the dope in the pot
my gun like my bathroom sink, keep the scope on the top
[interlude: blacastan]
you see? you see? many have come, and many have tried for glory, but none have achieved it. except the chosen. and that’s the demigodz. you got slaves and martyrs. and then you got the pharaohs. the gospel according to planetary
[verse 2: planetary]
back when they had rollie m-ssimino
i pollied p-ssin’ c-notes, rockin’ michael jack and t-to
psychopathic evil with a rifle and a needle
and started hatin’ people, i don’t trust n-ggas neither
so believe us when we say, the heater’s tucked away
tomorrow, that’s tomorrow, i don’t give a f-ck today
i don’t wanna f-ck with dre, i’d rather run with my alliance
if dre want a verse the motherf-cker gotta buy it
i’m better than whoever, put your money where your mouth at
write the type of panic that could push the whole crowd back
loud clap, bounce back, i announce that
man and demigodz, count that
pharaoh n-ggas out back
20 deep, plenty heat
not too many beef
them n-ggas know how it go when the henny creep
there’s plenty seats you can sit through the horror
verbal murderer from the criminal authors
[verse 3: esoteric]
i’m the sickest author, sl!cker talker, raid your liquor locker
l!ck a shot for all the sh-tty authors i turn into chicken fodder
prime and proper, b-tches grip the c-ck and it’s a shocker
’cause it’s bigger than chewbacca
mount olympus, it’s a monster fam
no atoms, i go at ’em, i can conquer land
stomp your man, have him mario batali on the lamb
i can contraband without protesting 80s arcade games that made these grenades bang
f-ck your lame gang, i got 11 pits in hicksville
five will cuddle, six k!ll
i’mma six million dollar man, i got a sick sk!ll so sit still
i know it’s tough for you, i’m number one you’re number two
yet i’m still the sh-t, so what you got a gun or two?
you wouldn’t use ’em if a criminal kicked in your door
raping your wife on the kitchen floor like “b-tch give me more.”
plus your little diss is swiss, you got no interest in war
you don’t cl!ck a .44, you say, “cl!ck on my store”
haha
[segment from the motion picture ‘billy jack’]
[woman] i just don’t want you to go out and commit murder! please… we’ll go some place else, some place where it doesn’t have to be like this
[man] oh really? tell me, where is that place? where is it? in what remote corner of this country, no the entire godd-mn planet? now you tell me where such a place is and i promise you that i’ll never hurt another human being as long as i live. just one place!
[verse 4: motive]
them subliminal rhymes can earn you a little casket nap
put your life on the line i bet i answer that
a broke n-gga who rap, i’m flippin’ birds on a block
you joke n-gga, you the type to spit a verse to a cop
you a dead man walkin’, similar to the crypt-keeper
got n-ggas worked up for nothin’ like a d-ck teaser
who got you fooled with that high octane?
now i’m on some bullsh-t like luol deng
my speech is precise so weapons that is lethal are mics
a rebel will make the devil say “i need christ in my life”
you a pretender
cross that line, f-ck tryin’ to injure, man i end ya
you a f-g showin’ your gender
it’s funny how cats act goon believin’ they rap tunes
but they speakin’ ’til they leakin’ from stab wounds
[outro: blacastan]
now consider yourself blessed motherf-ckers. b-ss drop!
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