[Verse 1: C-Rayz Walz]

Digital Bible rap prophecy revolves the Earth in pit stops

“Specialist” “On the Mic,” punch-in-the-face hip hop

You can’t bust back—I crack shells like weak pottery

Lobby the street—possibly done properly

Probably—populations ponder popularity

We’ll see. Erratically, I switch polarities

Navigate space through bars fantastically

The art of energy spark the symmetry, limit me

In rhythm speed, I bone beats to gift the seeds

Snakes suck my double-edged blade ‘til the venom scream

Faces of death, unheard verbs will kill and scream

Drop skills and beam my Millennium thing

Barcode fiends identify through UPCs

Scan your retina. [?] swole like [?]

Low pressure. Prose let us change cloak like Fletcher

Pass work through your sector, lie in a stretcher

Your army together, bring pressure while the streets get redder

(Streets get redder)

[Verse 2: L.I.F.E. Long]

Left, right steps forward march. My fleet takes it to streets

Early rise at a 6 AM wakeup call to the sound of clapped heat

All you see is open mustard bombs and smoke clouds linger through the air

Physiqued bandits run to their moms

Face covered, you can’t make out they descriptions

Everyone’s moving in the same patterns

All taking positions from [?] left painting the scriptures on papers dirt-red

From the spill of blood due to the previous battle night

Non-sight vision sees bodies dead

Enter the battlefield a day after walking victorious, face flush

With joy when my conquer with enemy allies got crushed

Some reveal the game cons us

We’re left to decay in septic clouds of dust

Fatal addiction, slept, and slave to lust

Secrets no longer hush, still silent

Tongues sweet, speaking violence

[Hook: Breez Evahflowin’] (x2)

Yo, these are the things that we least express

Release the stress (Shine) ‘til we see success

‘Til the most and the least is fed

Cock back, bust off at the beat ‘til the streets is red

[Verse 3: Wiz]

New York corner streets, where the borders meet

Late night, holding heat ‘til their organ beat

Shop riots, pistols and crackpipes

Now it’s that life

What’s worse?

To live 21 or never see 21st?

Picture me in a hearse

Deluxe casket, six in the earth

Turned to dust, ashes—nah

I’ll be ninety years old, still holding my spot

Still calling the shots

Life is still all to the God

Only in God

Bible, read pages

Life in three stages

Birth, grow up, and demise

I can see bitches by the look in his eyes

You’re not a crook but he tries

They done dug more work through Brooklyn at night

Now face your bullets. They real and deadly

They’ll kill your family

You feel your metty?

Leave it alone

You’ll be upstate with no more bitches to bone

Fam steady, [?] poem

Getting stabbed as you reach for the phone

[Verse 4: Breez Evahflowin’]

With my vocal demonstration, devastation follows

The elevation of tomorrow to Satan’s sorrow

Got to get up, get to taking ‘cause waiting’s hollow

Science sours, Pagans and powers

Seeds from the [virgin?] hour forsaking ours

And they allow us to express ourselves on wax

Burden with the murderous tax converted with facts

We attracted to stars—was Copernicus black?

Return to the sack, trying to get back in the womb

It’s like the whole world dust and pussy is the vacuum

Hell yeah, shorty, I’mma meet you in the bathroom

And bring your fucking high school teacher from the classroom

Don’t ask, “Whom or what set it?” Get it in your gut

The foot in niggas’ ass—now what better than they strut?

[And death, the day?] was before because of all y’all

Bullshit rappers, get ready for war!

[Hook: Breez Evahflowin’] (x2)

Yo, these are the things that we least express

Release the stress (Shine) ‘til we see success

‘Til the most and the least is fed

Cock back, bust off at the beat ‘til the streets is red

[Outro (Overlapped with Ad Libs of Hook): Breez Evahflowin’]

Uh. Uh. Blood-red. Wiz. What? Strongholding! What? Crystal Lake. Ha. Yeah. Come with me. Yeah. Strongholding!