Rodan - “Intro (Peri-G) / Wind Before the Storm”
[Emcee(s): Rodan]
[Producer(s): X-Ray Da Mindbenda]

[Intro: Samples]
[Sample from Conan the Barbarian (1982)]
“Fire and wind come from the sky, from the gods of the sky. The gods forgot the secret of steel, and left it on the battlefield” - Conan’s Father
[Sample from The Prophecy (1995)]
“Did you ever notice how, in the Bible, whenever God needed to punish someone or make an example or whenever God needed a killing, he sent an angel? Did you ever wonder what a creature like that must be like? A whole existence spent praising your God, but always with one wing dipped in blood. Would you ever really want to see an angel?” - Thomas Daggett

[Verse 1: Rodan]
Jugular vein rap, journalism broadcast, Ed Begley
On the mic, black-coal burning ‘em, Socrates shooting up
Running through your veins like a dope fiend, cutting-edge microphone
Sledgehammer through your smokescreen, combat wingtips
Steel toes and bottles, sterling Silverado, jacked the lotto
Stagecoach shift sands in the hourglass sponsored by Movado
Break bread, Remy on the rocks, eyes bloodshot
Red like tomatoes, or just ski as hoes from Whitney
To Britney Spears backing bad rap, suffocate careers
And shed no tears, celebrate a new millennium every day
‘Cause one day to me is equal to a thousand of y’all years. Relax in
Virtual backdrops, pack Glocks in digital crack spots
Big Brother biometric snapshots tried to shun God
Used a stun card to zap cops, programmed hardware
Raw blacktops, 5 mics from cyber critics with
Macs and laptops—amen to these pop crackers. Fact:
I’m blacker than average n***a, cross-pigmentation of America
Go figure—cultural snipers squeeze the trigger. Respect
Credit where it’s due, my wigger. Swinging a pipe with vigor
Heart get bigger from every hand-to-hand rigor, plus nasty
With gunplay, fucking a supermodel, stick a designer
For his fashions on the runway, spin emcees
Twenty-three degrees, six days a week, rest on the Sabbath, resume work
On a Sunday. Multimillion-dollar street beggar
Panhandling from the local corner bodega, got the game sewn
From alpha to omega, never run a “No. 5” like Lou Bega
Sell TECs and collect checks from bootleggers
We do it after dark, lamppost plugged in, juiced-up
Park cable, project silence for the projects. N***a looking
Sweet on the screen like Clark Gable, rolling with prime
Crime elements, highly unstable. Hydrogen, tell Helium
To tell Oxygen to save my seat at the periodic table
[Hook: Rodan]
Like the wind before the storm, Flightpope Ro’ set to blow
Rule cyph’ divine, master eye circumference, let ‘em know
It’s the wind before the storm, Flightpope Ro’ here to show
Rule cyph’ divine, most intelligent: Czars blow-for-blow
The wind before the storm, Flightpope Ro’ set to blow
Rule cyph’ divine, master eye circumference, let ‘em know
It’s the wind before the storm, Flightpope Ro’ here to show
Rule cyph’ divine, most intelligent: Czars blow-for-blow

[Verse 2: Rodan]
Yo, these pencilnecks be spitting silly rhymes, allegedly living in
The big willy times, but most you n***as are showing me is early
Milli Vanilli signs. We could praise God and pass the ammunition
For the MAC milli nines, go to war for real like ancient
Israelites fighting and smiting the Philistines, accumulated
Body count on the radio playlist, just another major label
Plagiarist, puppet-string infringement, material is
Strictly copywritten flavor shit spinning on my laser disc
Train the mainstream to my voice like puppies enjoy bones
Live in a Plexiglas castle and throw toy stones
Stomping through your manufactured tough boy zones, sweet
Cookie-cutter roster, assembly-line camp, employed clones
Against my team, that’s like Mini-Me versus Roy Jones
Writing creative, cathartic, artistic, fantastic shit
Seek separation via synthesis through the smartest sar-
-castic wit, stage through the jungle, knuckle figures tussle and fight
Take flight by day, nocturnal monsters hunt and hustle
All night, more than most, throw the Moët, superlative
Adjectives, shitting on this whole industry using my M-I-C like
A laxative, iron will and strong nerves, big dick
For thong curves, getting brain from RnB songbirds
Buffalo soldiers never cliquing with the wrong herds, candy bong
Nerds, and choke n***as with long words—ask that hussy I
Kept to stroking, long-lasting like Eveready, jewels dropping
Like confetti, Glocks popping like Rock Steady, Led weapons
Like Zeppelin, no half-stepping on the “Stairway to Heaven,” repping
From the jail tears to the eddy in the Serengeti
Dashikis and baggy jeans sagging, smoking Puff the Magic
Dragon, jump the turnstile, riding on my own bandwagon
Manifest Destiny or native people blood-spiller
Protector of the truth or just another petty thug killer
40 to a brick in ‘96, become a bigger fiend, stay
Addicted to nicotine—now who the real drug dealer?
Motherfucker
[Hook: Rodan]
Like the wind before the storm, Flightpope Ro’ set to blow
Rule cyph’ divine, master eye circumference, let ‘em know
It’s the wind before the storm, Flightpope Ro’ here to show
Rule cyph’ divine, most intelligent: Czars blow-for-blow
The wind before the storm, Flightpope Ro’ set to blow
Rule cyph’ divine, master eye circumference, let ‘em know
It’s the wind before the storm, Flightpope Ro’ here to show
Rule cyph’ divine, most intelligent: Czars blow-for-blow

[Outro: Rodan]
Sticking bitches in the mouth