Buddha Monk And Popa Wu - Call Of The Gods lyrics

You're savage with, below average, non-solidated liquid cabbage I blast quick, televise it to those minds that's celebate Now document it, on this day Zu's gospel written (Yo Buddha I can hear you) Like Adam and Eve where all fruit were forbidden (Sounds travels 1, 123 feet per second) Enter my perimeter, I'm a destroy all you sinners Wrap around you like anaconda, now ya voicebox becomes volume! Test this, bless this, it's priceless God Cypher Divine, 5% I represent Nation of Gods and Earths, seeds, original first Sun, moon and stars, original black Gods Sixteen shades'll show and prove who you are Sixteen gold, basically, when you were stole Bought and sold, and tossed all over the f*cking globe I won't fold, better breathe just like ya cold Six hundred years of Yakub's 'fro matter Motion and speed, grafted seed, break the spleen If thirteen men, enter the battle, Manchu Mongolians My evil forces within would tell me to k** again You're savage, below average, non-solidated liquid cabbage I blast quick, televise it to those minds that's celebate Now document it, on this day Zu's gospel written Like Adam and Eve where all fruit were forbidden Enter my perimeter, I'm a destroy all you sinners Wrap around you like anaconda, now ya voicebox becomes volume! I blaze tracks like lightning, sh**'s frightening I get hype, just from the talk of fighting Buddha Monk, Manchuz, B.K., plus the Zu Now who's gonna win this battle here? I say you There's your anti-thoughts though, I see you fought slow My motto, get gold, then f*ck a hoe We, got this sh** locked, yeah, all in a smash You get in the way, feel the mega-ton blast, n***a It started when them cats came back from the cave, n***a Used to be slave n***a, now I'm brave, n***a Hanging with Gravediggaz and two gold triggers Time to realize, a mind, body and soul is bigger Got styles and miles, of a New Jersey Drive Pierce like syringes, if it's war, yo I'm in the trenches Public Enemy #1, hit the bank, job done On the run from c-cypher, still serve pipers Later that night, I hit the club, flick my Bic Pick a chick I could creep with, my life, in containment Still sell d**, with three arraignments F*ck it, street money, po-po blocking it Gotta build, legal conglomerates, ain't no stopping it Gotta feed and educate the babies, so I run rabid like rabies n***as can't f*ck with my grammer If I was a b**h I'd be a bad mamajama Your music sounds like Loops of Fruit, kicks dissolve 808, sore, six doors, American Tale, feeble calls Was West, pray to the East, the Sun don't rise, plant ya feet We eat ground turkey meat, carnivore was tranqued, original peachtree Drunk-a** poetry, in the clouds style Zu a**a**ins Duck-Lo quietly, strategy, outburst violently Finitely, Brooklyn displays how it was tooken Tracks is utensils, n***as stencil art In war paint and, perimeter was an open lane Intoxicated blows, is rugged like fatigue wearing hoes Yo, pick your play action I cross ya a** like a Soddomite in pale moon light Cause to me ya all sounding like b**hes on the mic It's official, verbal pistol ripping ya bone gristle Invisible move like stealth missles, undetected Catch it if ya can, man, listen, sh** is getting hot in my kitchen Baking lots of chicken, with Lord Buddha Monk kicking a can of a**-whippings It's a barbecue with Ol' Dirt and the Zu, bring the L-I-Q We gon' drink 'til we drop, smoke pot, from the finest weed spot You need not, act like you insane, I spit flames Shame the devil and the demons in ya brain Yo, your raps brought back negative feedback My mind explores at where your inhibitions is lost at I sour tracks, win beats, flip through loops I'm with an ace even if my style threw a deuce I teach the truth to the youth Before you should attack your central nerve system Leaving brain damage and addiction Through forced lyrical infliction, reality's what you missing Baby, do you remember me from "Follow Me"? Just-I-Cee-Equality, with these thoughts I leave explosions, overdosing off the Lord's potions Got some sh** delf-defined, some sh** I won't mention You don't need to be trying Make fake rappers don't wanna-be's, b**hes 'tract to the wack meat With this ghetto fashion, actual faction Beats flashing, style fly like Jane flashing Flows clashing, holding this mic triangular Freestyle strangler, baby Yo, y'all muthaf*ckas step y'all sh** up