Rodan ft. Monsta Island Czars (ft. Kong, Loch Ness, Rodan, Megalon, King Cesar, Kamackeris, King Geedorah, and Jet Jaguar) - “Run the Sphere v.2.3”

[Emcee(s): Kong, Loch Ness, Rodan, Megalon, King Cesar, Kamackeris, King Geedorah, and Jet Jaguar]

[Producer(s): X-Ray Da Mindbenda]

[Verse 1: Kong]

We got

The Glocks cocked, niggas stuck slow, fuck slow. Smack

The shit out ‘em, should have called Brickface and Stucco

“Uh oh!” like Maaco, some nickel pesos in the NY

Adore West, they fly flows and ask, “Kong, can I?”

Slash precise, I roll with Spice, caught a life, head

To Houston without Whitney—you could even ask the preacher’s wife

Blao, back ‘em up. Fuck the grammar—that’s word to kill

I dropped Evander ‘cause he’s standing on my Holyfields

Slash M-E-L, yo, K slash M-E

‘Cause emcees often envy the vocal style ten-deep

One two, mic check. Next one step up

Speedy K slashed, your fucking Heinz couldn’t Ketchup

[Verse 2: Loch Ness]

Hold up

Those that knows I knows I gots no time talking

Recognize bullseye nigga. Closed eyes

Ain’t always sleep, nigga. Evidently, I

Be L-O-C-Ness, the finesse, you find Ness

Trooping the streets, awaiting death, but now you face me

The murderous sounds that lounge on wax. Use my lyrics

As my carpet when opponents chose the motive for me to know that

To cock back, release my... y’all niggas stop that

Raise the stakes, release contact

[Verse 3: Rodan]

The world’s indictment of my

Mathematics made me a control freak—witness the foulest shit

And I integrate calculus in every word I speak, geometric

Motion’s in every action I see. You got a mean streak?

You ass like butt cheeks up shit’s creak, make your future bleak

Life on drunken binges. Wild maverick on the out-

-skirts of society fringes, hanging onto the door of

Sanity by the hinges, interdimension transmission

Transitions, charge the heartless a dollar-and-a-half, buck fifty

That’s a facial circumcision. Rest in peace, Big L

Big Pun, Biggie Smalls, Freaky Tah, and 2Pac

Allah blessed David Force, Family Haze, Tigger, Tony Mone, and

DJ Subroc. Y’all snitching cow motherfuckers

Suck a fat cock

[Verse 4: Megalon]

Streetlights

With cameras, I’ll walk the beat like Beast that can’t stand us. Hand-to-hand

Gram-handlers, scanners and scramblers, street-life

Gamblers, Tommy Mantana—word to nana—banana clips going

Bananas in the land of guzzle, bust holes in bandanas, snub-nosed

Blood on my clothes, cancer, lap dances, Black

Panthers, three dot branding us, street fights

With hammers, black and Spanish Zlatans and blacks with bad

Manners and bandages dance to this, bust hoes and mark

The cannons

[Verse 5: King Cesar]

Ayyo

I spit fast like whiplash and I dash when I dip class

My shit last like good stash, type of hype make your whip crash

Sniff coke and smoke grass, suck-dick and kiss-ass

Break glass and breakdance, break law and take chance

Yo, yo, exit to the next shit. It’s real

I’ll saw you into pieces like Richie Aprile

I’ll shit on you just like my fucking Loud deal

Introducing King Cesar with the dogface grill

Fifty meters tall, thirty-thousand tons

Representing full-circle for my Monsta Island duns

[Verse 6: Kamackeris]

We’re some underground brothers on a bubble. What you want?

Trouble? Have you underneath in the rubble, yo

I’ll drug you with these nicks, dime bags

And eight-balls. No mistake, y’all, we break y’all

All it is is a phone call—we’ll be right

There, shorty in the back know this thing ain’t

Fair, but we don’t care. Somebody should have

Let you know: we show love and, sometimes, yo

We let it go. It be harder than death row

While y’all niggas rhyming so-so, we cop divine

Dough

[Verse 7: King Geedorah]

It’s the one King Geedorah, the three who closed the deal for

Eleven million lira. She looked like Vera brother

She had the fatty but an ugly motherfucker who stay up

In the mirror forever. It’s all clever

Whatever floats your rowboat, specialist in our ears

No stroke, the hoes vote, bald-headed coochies to the

Hoochies with the titties that fall flat, people looking

Pretty and all that

[Verse 8: Jet Jaguar]

Quake

Beats like Earth with profanity and sanity

Musical exorcism haunting tracks like it’s Amity

Niggas we’re burning, intentions affirming

As the beat rocks and we plot on competition

Mic’s a MAC-11, add the vocal ammunition, ass-

-whippings are dished to those who feel better

Get ‘em. We cock the mic back and then we wet ‘em

Brain-burner microwave thoughts like it’s Swanson

Fast learner accumulate units until it’s platinum

Defeat us? Come on, nigga, that shit ain’t happening

Fuck the rapping shit. Avoid me

‘Cause when I’m paranoid, motherfucker, I be capping shit

I’m mapping out shit, my man, plans to become

Millionaires before we disappear from this atmosphere