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Album: Mic Club: The Curriculum
Song: Curriculum 101
Typed by: KnowledgeGod@btinternet.com
[Intro: movie sample]
Claims are being made
That for me go far beyond the available evidence
In fact in many cases are contradicted by the evidence
And that bothers me
Forensic psychologist Samuel Dubious explains
"You'll probably never understand Germaine"
Incoherent speeches, puzzles in pieces
The sub-chemical deepness of his glandular excretions
Realms of Heaven and Hell
Glowing angelic gel spliced with bovine leukemia cells
Demons in Hell, they call to me
I scream, "What can you offer me?"
They reply, "Techno-Sorcery"
They tell me the meek will never inherit the world
Cause they're weak, standing on two twelve inch feet
I dream quasi-Draconian dreams when I sleep
Peyote leaves mixed with the blood of a priest
In a room where the ceiling leaks of crimson grease
Where the living eats the dead, and the dead reek
Rock bottom transforms human beings to beasts
Why the fuck you think we've got canine teeth?
It's the optical stimuli of watching men cry
I hope I've got time to repent before I die
Bury me at the beach if the sea is out of reach
Cause when I speak what's fluid becomes concrete
Like a falcon up in the sky, ten thousand feet
Looking down at you bitches looking at me
Phase shifting at forty-five degrees
I'm too crooked to see, I memorize the books that I read
Sucking from the breast of knowledge constantly weaning
Unbeseemingly a genius without meaning
Try to visualize what Harry Houdini was feeling
Handcuffed under water without breathing
Near death on a fatal quest for air
But why should anyone care? He put himself there
His career was based on facing his fears
To take destiny from the hand of the man upstairs
He didn't mind the cold stares he got from his peers
They couldn't tell him where he was going or how to get there
It's better to be prepared and fail
Than to be scared and unsure of yourself and still get killed
Don't rhyme like I used to but I still got skills
More than a couple confirmed kills under the belt
Hunting emcees is like hunting elk
Camouflaged in the dense brush for stealth, determined as hell
I don't do this for anybody except myself
Stuff a motherfucker like a trophy on my shelf
Fuck the promo nigga I do this for dolo
Flow from the first hour to twenty-four-oh-oh
Round the clock as long as I've got a cup of cocoa
But I'll be a no-show if my girl cries, "Don't go!"
And she gives me blow more than two times in a row
I'd rather chill with her than kill you with a rhyme that I wrote
Count how many mics I've smoked, minus the G.O.A.T.
'Bus is dope, my battling average is higher than most
When I'm on the mic I release fire from throat
If you disagree please do it quietly folks
Anybody better than 'Bis must be a hoax
Black man? No! What about the 'Great White Hope?'
What? Man you must be sniffing great white coke
Don't you know that's like Gary Coleman fighting the Hulk?
Still not even quite that close, a great white biting your rubber dingy boat
Fifty miles out from the coast
What the fuck is the Mathers with you?
I'll beat you black and blue then I'll get a tat of you too
Better yet I'll put a tattoo of me on you
A ten by ten 'C' logo, neon blue
The most theatrical emcee battle of all time
I rip jackers like you; you know my call sign
Killer cobras that hover over Jehovah
In motorized auto-giros with sycamore rotors
Hydrogen-peroxide gaseous vapors
Technically these words shouldn't even rhyme off paper
In theory, for every soul that can hear me, I'ma blaze them
In practical practice my style's even greater
Can't you see what I'm spitting? Can't you hear the difference?
Compared to me you're energetically inefficient
You need ten times the enzymes to process one of my rhymes
You've got to rewind every one of my lines
Do you know how to paraphrase?
Do you even understand what the narrator is trying to say?
The climax explodes; nobody can foreshadow my flow
Figuratively the language is too dope
Academic journals print my lyrical quotes
They show parallelism in all the albums I wrote
On any track I come off strong automatically
Whether I write in an active or passive capacity
Poetry that I spit is synonymous to a glyph
Written on tablets of clay mortar mix
Superb, truly superb! Analyze the words
It's like observing the birds fly above the earth
The Eye of Horus, the miniature torii within a giant torus
With singularity on the chorus, I still sound enormous
Borderline insanity trying to break through humanity's border
With a new curriculum every quarter
I'm the porter to the portal of the Secret Mic-Club Order
Baptize you with Jamaican white rum and water
If you've got a hundred bars then I know you're a warrior
I'll be the one who awards you and pins the medal on you
Dedicate a song to you because now you're honorable
You want a record deal?
Explain the lyrical grand unified field so I can test your skill
Do it in front of the class, chart diagram it
And write it in Latin, not Spanish god damn it
Step back so I can look at it, (Speaking in Latin)
Huh? What the fuck is that wack shit?
You're clumsy and dumb like a hand with five thumbs
Welcome to Mic-Club – Curriculum 101