[Intro]
A land of the lost, a place where we dwell
[Verse 1]
We from a lost land
Where there's MCs not pop bands
When I was [?]
Now you're acting like this rap sh** was meant for
Any sap that's handing in a forged rap consent form
It's trench war
Smell the d**h stench and flesh raw
The rest of y'all ain't even fit to f**ing bench warm
This ain't a rent form
You can't fake a reference here
Now pay your penance or as tenants you'll be yesteryears
Hard pressed to hear any new verse that's nearing par
Worth appearance fees or fit to charge sixteen bars
Yeah I hear 'em saying hip hop's pa**ed
But Ima resurrect the b**h and rip the lid off its casket
Spit sharp as marksmen
Sixth coming of Rakim
A craftsman, sergeant at arms grasping stardom
Spit blistering scripts, convicted arsonist
Murderous purging the scene like Joseph Stalin
My flow's slalom, skied up nose blown I'm chargin' stage divin'
Wrath of Kane live Apollo, Harlem
Hall of fame name draped in martyrdom
A lone figure flying the flag like it's Tiananmen
[Hook]
We from a long lost planet where rap is real
Still intact and untapped by the ma** appeal
(The way that I feel can never be healed
And all we left with is a memory feel)
[Verse 2]
We from a lost land
Where the clocks hands are stopped
Before the rot set in
Before they shot Scott La Rock
Before the shops stocked rap in a section called urban
And every third person's thinking they're word surgeons
But y'all virgins, first come, first served
[?] call curtains
I got this b**h's skirt hitched up, mid tit f**
But it ain't feel the same since the game got that nip tuck
Now it's all plastic, lacking core fabric
And I'm looking at the front door like main source is cla**ic
sh**, I ain't about to go and bounce from a sinking ship
But things are grim ripping on the brink of extinction
With original blueprints, guidelines and standards
Am I the only one who took them time's up rhymes for granted?
(Of course we gotta pay rent, so money connect)
But I'd still rather be broke and have a whole lotta respect
It's the principle of it
I get a rush like I'm dusted
Crushing these mother f**ers is what I've become accustomed to
My flow's effortless
No rest I pepper this
Mic like my life depend on a walking, glowing reference
[Hook]
We from a long lost planet where rap is real
Still intact and untapped by the ma** appeal
(The way that I feel can never be healed
And all we left with is a memory feel)