A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


"Run the Sphere v.2.3 (Theophany: The Book of Elevations Version)"

Rodan ft. Monsta Island Czars (ft. Kong, Loch Ness, Rodan, Megalon, King Cesar, Kamackeris, King Geedorah, and Jet Jaguar) - “Run the Sphere v.2.3 (Theophany: The Book of Elevations Version)”
[Emcee(s): Kong, Loch Ness, Rodan, Megalon, King Cesar, Kamackeris, King Geedorah, and Jet Jaguar]
[Producer(s): X-Ray Da Mindbenda]

[Verse 1: Kong]
We got
The Glocks c*cked, n*ggas stuck slow, f*ck slow. Smack
The sh*t out ‘em, should have called Brickface and Stucco
“Uh oh!” like Maaco, some nickel pesos in the NY
Adore West, they fly flows and ask, “Kong, can I?”
Slash precise, I roll with Spice, caught a life, head
To Houston without Whitney—you could even ask the preacher’s wife
Blao, back ‘em up. f*ck the grammar—that’s word to kill
I dropped Evander ‘cause he’s standing on my Holyfields
Slash M-E-L, yo, K slash M-E
‘Cause emcees often envy the vocal style ten-deep
One two, mic check. Next one step up
Speedy K slashed, your f*cking Heinz couldn’t Ketchup

[Verse 2: Loch Ness]
Hold up
Those that knows I knows I gots no time talking
Recognize bullseye n*gga. Closed eyes
Ain’t always sleep, n*gga. Evidently, I
Be L-O-C-Ness, the finesse, you find Ness
Trooping the streets, awaiting death, but now you face me
The murderous sounds that lounge on wax. Use my lyrics
As my carpet when opponents chose the motive for me to know that
To c*ck back, release my... y’all n*ggas stop that
Raise the stakes, release contact

[Verse 3: Rodan]
The world’s indictment of my
Mathematics made me a control freak—witness the foulest sh*t
And accurate calculus in every word I speak, geometric
Motion’s in every action I see. You got a mean streak?
You ass like butt cheeks up sh*t’s creak, make your future
Bleak, life on drunken binges. Wild maverick on the out-
-skirts of society fringes, hanging onto the door of
Sanity by the hinges, interdimension transmission
Transitions, charge the heartless a dollar-and-a-half, buck fifty
That’s a facial circ*mcision. Rest in peace, Big L
Big Pun, Biggie Smalls, Freaky Tah, and 2Pac
Allah blessed David Force, Family Haze, Tigger, Tony Mone, and
DJ Subroc. Y’all snitching cow motherf*ckers
Suck a fat c*ck

[Verse 4: Megalon]
With cameras, I’ll walk the beat like Beast that can’t stand us. Hand-
-to-hand gram-handlers, scanners and scramblers, street-life
Gamblers, Tommy Mantana—word to nana—banana clips going
Bananas in the land of guzzle, bust holes in bandanas, snub-nosed
Blood on my clothes, cancer, lap dances, Black
Panthers, three dot branding us, street fights
With hammers, black and Spanish Zlatans and blacks with bad
Manners and bandages dance to this, bust hoes and mark
The cannons

[Verse 5: King Cesar]
I spit fast like whiplash and I dash when I dip class
My sh*t last like good stash, type of hype make your whip crash
Sniff coke and smoke grass, suck-di*k and kiss-ass
Break glass and breakdance, break law and take chance
Yo, yo, exit to the next sh*t. It’s real
I’ll saw you into pieces like Richie Aprile
I’ll sh*t on you just like my f*cking Loud deal
Introducing King Cesar with the dogface grill
Fifty meters tall, thirty-thousand tons
Representing full-circle for my Monsta Island duns

[Verse 6: Kamackeris]
We’re some underground brothers on a bubble. What you want?
Trouble? Have you underneath in the rubble, yo
I’ll drug you with these nicks, dime bags
And eight-balls. No mistake, y’all, we break y’all
All it is is a phone call—we’ll be right
There, shorty in the back know this thing ain’t
Fair, but we don’t care. Somebody should have
Let you know: we show love and, sometimes, yo
We let it go. It be harder than death row
While y’all n*ggas rhyming so-so, we cop divine

[Verse 7: King Geedorah]
It’s the one King Geedorah, the three who closed the deal for
Eleven million lira—she looked like Vera brother
She had the fatty but an ugly motherf*cker who stay up
In the mirror forever. It’s all clever
Whatever floats your rowboat, specialist in our ears
No stroke, the hoes vote, bald-headed coochies to the
Hoochies with the titties that fall flat, people looking
Pretty and all that

[Verse 8: Jet Jaguar]
Beats like Earth with profanity and sanity
Musical exorcism haunting tracks like it’s Amity
n*ggas we’re burning, intentions affirming
As the beat rocks and we plot on competition
Mic’s a MAC-11, add the vocal ammunition, ass-
-whipping’s are dished to those who feel better
Get ‘em, we c*ck the mic back and then we wet ‘em
Brain-burner microwave thoughts like it’s Swanson
Fast learner acc*mulate units until it’s platinum
Defeat us? Come on, n*gga, that sh*t ain’t happening
f*ck the rapping sh*t. Avoid me
‘Cause when I’m paranoid, motherf*cker, I be capping sh*t
I’m mapping out sh*t, my man, plans to become
Millionaires before we disappear from this atmosphere

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