Volcano - Anti-Pop Consortium

You ain’t got to say «It's a go»

In my lane, I won’t follow

All I do is dropped, an old volcano

Another day breaks, my game stays insanity

Lighting bolt hits the beat, another battery

Charged, behind bars, I have no gravity

Fresh out the lab, white coat to infinity

Sayyid, aluminum trunks with new chemistry

Followed by Buffy, the Body, and two symphony

Some amenities for the energy of the ministry

That independently is responsible for the divinity

Televangelists hand me the hammers and the manuscripts

Then I get to shootin' and zoomin' like Los Angeles

Proper ambulance, light the candles and burn the cannabis

Your boy’s big trip, tell shorty to pack sandwiches

Couple flashlights and water and gauze bandages

We goin' roamin' when no one’s flowin' alone

It’s not understood (dootsrednu ton s’ti)

Till I come back with computers for the hood

A 7 Series and something sick with a throttle

Ugly on a strip like Rosie O’Donnell

Then vanish into a tunnel while angels singing soprano

And clock sees my shadow ‘cause we are tomorrow

Back it’s that native New York hork, the talk that we walk

Is sideways, raised and amazed

My aim when I came in the game was about change

Without doubt watching the haters about-face

The Brett Favre of bars with boys above par

Cut from a stitch in a cloth that’s long lost

Switching off the switch in your back, switching me on

Switchin' on the Michelin S-men, chess men

Old vet send young rappers over the bench and get it

So many shots, who’s fitted with it, who benefitted

With a pen we needed to get it over division

Your hoping it is more like this when although there isn’t

My team leading illegally when receivers leavin'

You been taking a beating, you beastin'

Gentle my gentlemen, your measurement is miniscule

Mr. Primetime, shit on your shine, clock-cleaner

Closed casket, the magnificent bastard

Will break your heart and enjoy it, but scared away and avoid it

Heat like a fire alarm with no battery

Yeti, crop circle, psycho, Dr. Mangle-a-Mic

Brought riot back, the ball back is ball-bean

Close as quilts, shell-shocked the body body

Let’s celebrate, it’s a festival so there are decibels

Worry the whack, we too worried to speak

Amazed, spit amazing, a maze so amazing

Y’all same old same old, lame old volcano, holla back

Buzz like ten tinnitus, on the mic it touch like Midas

Sees the brightest of the brightest the right way all day

On your knees you pray

For the return, the abstract rap Rat Pack is back