lirik lagu theoriii - fibonacci sentences
[verse 1]
forgetting everything about reality
and actually morality, rapidly
becoming a fiction fantasy
hopefully
the tree of knowledge will bear fruits for all to see
gracefully, no whispers from serpents from the dens of iniquity, theoriii
the black hole in the universe of ignorance
youni-verses from me to validate any benevolence
pegasus, the astral being i fly on to reach relevance
feel the blood in your iris and cry for an act of kindness
don’t be scared of this
my mind just vibrates at a higher frequency
free the dmt from your cerebral quinn
and eventually you’ll see
that the cuffs of deception can’t hold me, i’m in gods custody
he’s got the key
no trail or bail needed only guilty of wisdom at the third degree
[verse 2]
all i need is a mic, and a tad bit of jedi
i’m obi one ken0bi, return of the third eye
this age gonna lend us, so praise the achievers
it’s longevity
i don’t make fans i make believers with my motherf-cken
creativity
making radio waves of stupidity less creditable
how can that be edible
tell me, whens the last time you read a book that was not one dimensional?
don’t question my intellect-you’ll find seas of theories
that will drown you at the speed of forgettable
all my homies are philosophers
rejecting scriptures from colleges
[verse 3]
we read emerald tables, dance on strings of quantum mechanics
levitate and meditate with gods
these ain’t bars, just truths
that will release you from the scars of twisted history
i come as a messenger to namibia to guide them to spiritual liberty
here’s an -n-logy
a wack rapper was about to be born
i ripped the cord before he was out
went back in time before his dad smashed his mom
shot the stork with my .45
f-cked the wife with this paradigm
bing! boom! pow!
ditched the b-tch, hit the switch
now i’m back with an itch i got from the first line, f-ck
here to outshine your cosign…
out perfected past perfections of my professionalism
p-ssing down perfect writtens from childhood to adolescence
displaying novels of literature at present tense, speaking sense
amidst senseless thinking they’re sick in pretense, hear me?!
shut the f-ck up!
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