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Artist: Chief Kamachi
Album:  The Clock of Destiny
Song:   Clock Keep Tickin'
Typed by: DaSun Akbar

Yeah, haaa
C'mon, Kamachi!
Yeah, Philadelphia
I'm back y'all
C'mon, I'm back y'all
C'mon, I'm back y'all

(Chorus) 2x
The Clock Keep Tickin'
Mach keep spittin'
And stars is written everybody just listen
Rhyme thought travel at a tremendous speed
Clouds of smoke through natural blends of weed

[Chief Kamachi]
Yeah, years underground, Mach move clandestine
Thug Kundalini rise than they wrap around the spine
Yogi with a handgun, name author Eveline
New Year's Eve night, stranded in Babylon
French kiss poison piranha's in the Amazon
Levitate over the projects with the cameras on
No trips to Italy to tell them that I am a Don
Celebrate on Space Mountains, bring the whole fam along
Smoke 70 grams, now that light dim is gon'
Pink elephants wondering what am I on?
I hear my voice, muthafuckin' jam is on
Cold crush angel dust, mic marathon
Final Call concepts from Young Farrakhan
Watch for the terror bomb
Stroll in a era calm
Medical card, charge for the marijuan'
Soul sick, everybody needing to hear a song

(Chorus) 2x

[Chief Kamachi]
Yo, dirt weed in a scented jar
Blood on the Scimitar on my way to Dethlehem
Following the dimmest star
Demonic zaar looking for a gem to spark
Trained for the Afterlife, twelve hour seminar
Lunch break, belly-dancers at a swinger's bar
Estropip got a eye for who the winners are
Bore, mack look nothing like a Minotaur
Full pack, blow the back outta scented fog
Look at me strange, rap slang bembezar
Tryna travel to the moon in a rented car
Back on the green, last putt to win the par
Tee hood, shank, slowly open up a scar
Organ donors, death diplomas
Whole graduating class lay stretched in comas
Belly of the Beast, smoke hundred L's with Jonah
Ten gold medals, back home from Barcelona

(Chorus) 2x

[Chief Kamachi]
Yo, what did the green pyramids seal, back of the bill
Only need one eye to see if you real
Musical morgue, ice box keeping them chill
Play the trumpet of Jibrail
Cold killer straight from Brazil
In the booth writing murder tryna scrape up a deal
Selling 8-balls of rap, don't make 'em a will
Camouflage Sunday suits, dressed to kill
Underground legend, Mach got the freshest appeal
Gypsy lady, once told me my message was ill
Gave me seven free rides on the carnival wheel
Y'all can't do it, let the most honorable spill
Black hoody rap, grew up on that Wu-Tang feel
Hip-Hop back on trial, the bail is a trill
Behind wires and steel, Messiah will build
Touch your forehead, now you can acquire the skill
Pray to Rakim Allah when I sit on the hill

(Chorus) 2x