Outerspace - Far Greater lyrics

[Scratching] You feelin' Outerspace n***a lick two shots We lettin' you know You feelin' Outerspace n***a lick two shots Bow down to something far - greater [Crypt the Warchild] I'm word perfect, write my words in a worse curse And emerge versus, tear this verse in the first person Disturbed surgeon operatin' for those hurtin' It's most certain that shows jerkin' when my flows workin' Most poetical, watch the game from a gold pedestal Half man/raging bull when I stand next to you Me & Plan identical, make it unbearable The reason that you bleedin', the reason for needin' medical No need to even threaten you cause talk is cheap I breed my seeds ready to a**ault the street Proceed to breathe heavy, get upon this heat Let my lines accumulate inside a vault for weeks My flows are sickenin' - I should be washed & bleached I'm down to get it in you feelin' froggishly Surround you spitter sins wit' a squad that's deep The ground I fit 'em in, let the applaudin' teach [Scratching] You feelin' Outerspace n***a lick two shots We lettin' you know You feelin' Outerspace n***a lick two shots Bow down to something far - greater [Planetary] It's me, the most evil verbalist alive I'm sicker than one foot in the grave ready to die My brain move, 'bout the same speed a train move Disturbed world rap, pain moves you lame crews Rage of angels, no wings crack halos Smack devil's on payroll when heaven's gates close I change clothes before rockin' a stained robe My names gold, voice platinum my frame glow My shoebox got 2Pac and Pun in it I rock "Hail Mary" spittin' 'til the nuns get it I done did it, after twenty five years Five beers I'm buzzed, you sittin' wit' dry tears The atmosphere's filled wit' debris & dust My wordplay is nothing you emcees should trust Bust back syllable gats blast triumphant f** that, we k**in' you cats black we run sh** [Esoteric] Yeah, you know, it's Esoteric 7L on the fader [Scratching] Bow down to something far greater [Esoteric] Let me find out these little cats want it wit' Es I'm at ya mum's rest, stompin' ya chest homie I'm serious I see cats tryna get their cake up Make a nickel, and prepare to be a dyme like make-up The gladiator hit the ring for spars You wanna rock, bring guitars I can't watch the news, cause when I sneeze yo, I think it's SARS To the point I can't think no bars, I just break ya balls To the cats that cling to bars, to the ones in the mirror lip-syncin' Nas I be shrinkin' stars, once I'm done wit' ya face You gonna have to find a girl who got a thing for scars I be liftin' motherf**ers out their mink & cars Then I lounge in bed, g'ahead count my bread My Boston accent will pronounce you dead Flip a rhyme like an ounce, make sure mouths is fed [Scratching] Bow down to something far greater *2X*