[Emcee(s): Rodan]

[Producer(s): Timbaland (Original instrumental from Timbaland feat. Drake - “Say Something”)]

[Verse: Rodan]

Abracadabra, read the chapter

Original head-slapper, land-clapper, red snapper. Pour one out

For every dead rapper, remember the beef

'Cause the most unique emcee of all time died on

November 13th. Dynasty of the ten pharaohs

Rubber grips with the twelve-inch barrels, no illusions

Serious artists, you delusion, delirious

And retarded. With great power comes great danger like

Being born inside Bethlehem inside a manger. Eclectic messages

Like Tyra's titties talking to me at night, telling me to build a temple

Of top of her breasteses, using levers to outweigh

The snow in Geneva, unbalanced like, “Motherfucker, I’m a Monsta

You’s a single-cell amoeba.” Kaiju goo-goo in Honolulu

With a few clues. Who want a new crew with a cool

Jewel and a nice view of the zoo? Monsta, I manhandle you

Bearhandle animals, hold a bear by his mandibles

Cold-stone army, “Thuggish Ruggish” like Bones-n-Harmony

Closing the pharmacy, the phones of ring tones alarming me

Verses are clips, I’m full spitting, tomahawk you like

Sitting Bull. Cocksucking faggot, I ain’t bullshitting

Heheh, you don’t belong to the streets while Ro’

Known to snatch victory out the jaws of the beat

From a Century 21st precinct, it was the first instinct

Quicker than a mini blink wink or a swift swim

Sinking down the kitchen…

…them clowns is weak, so I increase

My prescription up to about an ounce a week. Handyman

Always bring the proper hammer and pay no attention

To Illuminati propaganda. Already exposed

To so many schools of thought. Not even for a second or a first

Never believe what the fools is taught. Shots of Patrón

Mixed with cortisone, swing steel, turn this

Mic into a swordophone, retro styles and gold chains

Old-school for real, take it back to Miles and Coltrane

Leave out the hip-hop, Big Bam back to the Big Bang

Can’t understand it. Those ain’t irises you see

When you look deeply into my eyes, bitch, those are planets

ADB can’t do the aftermath, remember the last one

‘Cause this is faster blast, laughing gas mask from the past

MC equals Master Cash, intentions

Not just to be a mighty king, so first and foremost

To stand as a most righteous being from the evening star

‘Til the day is gone at B.B. King's headliner

With Jimi Hendrix and Stevie Ray Vaughan. Come on, dawg

You’re hitting my elbows. Cocksucker, it’s time for you to

Burn in Hell slow. Hell to the no, fatal blows

For whom the bell tolls. Feet purple, leap the hurdle. Peep the circle

Fell asleep, creepin' up on Myrtle, too much

Cursing. Feel the touch, I’m murdering, motherfuckers be like

“He used to be such a good person.” Hurt ‘em. You got

Those small visions, I got my ayatollah mission. You still

Trapped behind the walls of the system, from the malls to the prisons

Causing all y’all to listen, I stay strapped

Wrap you up in a ball of submission, no way to tap

Tap the fuck out! Aim has all the precision, Hall of Fame

Flame-broilers’ edition. Small-claim crawlers, fall into position

Terminator of recognition, somebody please kill him

Step on these cockroach maggots like an ignition

Make the deaf, dumb, and blind stop, look, and listen. The brand-new

Addiction, brand-new prescription, brand-new predictions

Brand-new premonitions, brand-new ambitions, brand-new

Conditions. Drop science so heavy, the brand-new addition

First aboard the precipice of the church, yelling out to the

Neophytes, sycophants, “Motherfuck your new religion!”

Kill ‘em