Producer: GZA True Master Shoalin Monks
[Verse 1]
Light the incense it gets intense
About to invent sentence after sentence
‘Till the chapter’s immense
To capture the listener’s interest
With this creation it’ll take a little erasing
Lots of meditation and concentration
Above me, the moving constellations
I move my lips like I’m conversating
Ideas are combinating
From five spheres of a conscious Oasis
Amazing, wait ‘till the rhyme begins aging
I'm like all nations in the body of one man caged in
Shooting rhymes from where planets are incubating
My ink starts spraying, bones are decaying
A throne is awaiting
I zone on these phrases
[Hook]
I can hear the angels
[Verse 2]
I write scrolls
Took the clothes of my future
Performing lyrical Kama Sutra within my medulla
Extracting the negative like a juicer
Attracted to her letters I seduced her
Now I'm standing naked in my thoughts
Exposing the body of my memories
My mind’s genitals connected with space minerals and releases relativity
From male to female changing chemistry
Inside that invisibility gave me the ability to be visually lyrically
When I squeeze the pen, it releases effergin
It gave me black swan bumps beneath my skin
Perform lyrical lobotomy
See the odyssey
With the proper MC
As the sun sets over Tibet
The monks pour me more tea
As I write near the stream
This is more than just poetry, with the pen I'm quite extreme
Just a project kid but when I write it gives me the insight of Kings
My mind goes way back into the cradle of knowledge
Angel Gabriel standing before this toddler
The bib of high science
I build a castle out of rhyming
I'm the capsule and the vitamin
In the womb of space
In the nursery of thought
In my room I would create, rehearsing my verses I would talk
My Similac was the pen in rap
My three eyes were the lens; it begins to snap
The longer the poems the stronger my bones
I'm on the desk as the writer
In my mental I would wet my diapers
Drinking from the bottle of Apollo
Writing the Gnostics between two cosmic tigers
I'm the Messiah, the solar facts, and the actual facts of rap
I'm 120 degrees, an abundance of cities and seas
And I’ll punish plenty MCs who try to run with my steez
My tongue is a gun and it’ll squeeze
I’ll burn sages, turn the pages, and I've heard these phrases
[Bridge]
I can hear the angels talking in the background
I can walk on water
My wings can flap now
If I'm not here tomorrow
Light a candle and say a prayer
Close your eyes enter the Enterprise
I'm about to take you there
[Verse 3]
So what’s in the psychic world of Walter Reed?
With the Mic I see Isis
And my rhymes open up portals for the mortals to see the immortals
Gods, kings all calling for me
Talking, giving me ideas from Heavy Mental
To the portrait on The Offering CD
Oftenly
Negative thoughts cause distortion so I take caution when I lead
So look both ways before crossing my mind
Watch for signs
Stay along each of my lines
Place my rhyme envelope of quotes
In the inside pocket of the jacket of History
Over the long t-shirt of infinity
Which hides the heart of the city
I use both palms to shake the hands on the clock
Time stops, I make honey come from the rock
I took my rhyme buried it deep into the sands of time
Let the salt water nourish it
It won’t grow into a plant but something you can climb
First, it starts from a pebble, to a hill, to a mountain
Which will pour sweet waters down from its fountain
I am the biology of belief
Hip Hop is full of stars
I can read astrology of the streets
Psychology of the Priest
Deep as the philosophy of the Greeks
The prophecies from the East
My mind holds the forbidden science
When I’m writing
Can I get a witness when I’m rhyming?
Can I hear a Amen?
Been doing this before cavemen
Been doing this before the ancients of language
Look at somebody and say God is not dead
Just nod your head
Listen to the bars that I said
Words from the Matrix
My eyes are the spaceships
My mouth is the oasis
I zone on these phrases
I CAN HEAR THE ANGELS
But hold up
See why I look in the sky?
Inside of my soul is all the 12 tribes
And each of them channel in prayers to the Most High
Simultaneously and at different times
My right palm holds the strokes of one million scribes
Disguised as all twenty-seven bones inside
After my poem’s designed
Then I zone of the rhyme
In a black mist I exist
I spit and the sun was born
Using positive and negative protons and electrons
Rhymes were nuclear explosions
The atoms composing weak and strong
In one billionth of a second the galaxies were formed
Meteor showers, comet’s blast, loud and quiet storms
In my magnificent mind the problem was solved
Now let’s get creative
The rhyme is the data
And I heard these phrases
[Outro]
Look up into the heavens. What you see there is a vertical multitude
Of stars thrown across the empty spaces. Whereas the whole infinity
Of things might come down on us, how shall we not stand astonished
And abashed in seeing the immensity of heaven, and what
Greater still, that of a sovereign lord who made it? Chokma
Keter . . . hip-hop is not dead. Binah . . . Malkuth . . . real lyricism
Is not dead
Light the incense it gets intense
About to invent sentence after sentence
‘Till the chapter’s immense
To capture the listener’s interest
With this creation it’ll take a little erasing
Lots of meditation and concentration
Above me, the moving constellations
I move my lips like I’m conversating
Ideas are combinating
From five spheres of a conscious Oasis
Amazing, wait ‘till the rhyme begins aging
I'm like all nations in the body of one man caged in
Shooting rhymes from where planets are incubating
My ink starts spraying, bones are decaying
A throne is awaiting
I zone on these phrases
[Hook]
I can hear the angels
[Verse 2]
I write scrolls
Took the clothes of my future
Performing lyrical Kama Sutra within my medulla
Extracting the negative like a juicer
Attracted to her letters I seduced her
Now I'm standing naked in my thoughts
Exposing the body of my memories
My mind’s genitals connected with space minerals and releases relativity
From male to female changing chemistry
Inside that invisibility gave me the ability to be visually lyrically
When I squeeze the pen, it releases effergin
It gave me black swan bumps beneath my skin
Perform lyrical lobotomy
See the odyssey
With the proper MC
As the sun sets over Tibet
The monks pour me more tea
As I write near the stream
This is more than just poetry, with the pen I'm quite extreme
Just a project kid but when I write it gives me the insight of Kings
My mind goes way back into the cradle of knowledge
Angel Gabriel standing before this toddler
The bib of high science
I build a castle out of rhyming
I'm the capsule and the vitamin
In the womb of space
In the nursery of thought
In my room I would create, rehearsing my verses I would talk
My Similac was the pen in rap
My three eyes were the lens; it begins to snap
The longer the poems the stronger my bones
I'm on the desk as the writer
In my mental I would wet my diapers
Drinking from the bottle of Apollo
Writing the Gnostics between two cosmic tigers
I'm the Messiah, the solar facts, and the actual facts of rap
I'm 120 degrees, an abundance of cities and seas
And I’ll punish plenty MCs who try to run with my steez
My tongue is a gun and it’ll squeeze
I’ll burn sages, turn the pages, and I've heard these phrases
[Bridge]
I can hear the angels talking in the background
I can walk on water
My wings can flap now
If I'm not here tomorrow
Light a candle and say a prayer
Close your eyes enter the Enterprise
I'm about to take you there
[Verse 3]
So what’s in the psychic world of Walter Reed?
With the Mic I see Isis
And my rhymes open up portals for the mortals to see the immortals
Gods, kings all calling for me
Talking, giving me ideas from Heavy Mental
To the portrait on The Offering CD
Oftenly
Negative thoughts cause distortion so I take caution when I lead
So look both ways before crossing my mind
Watch for signs
Stay along each of my lines
Place my rhyme envelope of quotes
In the inside pocket of the jacket of History
Over the long t-shirt of infinity
Which hides the heart of the city
I use both palms to shake the hands on the clock
Time stops, I make honey come from the rock
I took my rhyme buried it deep into the sands of time
Let the salt water nourish it
It won’t grow into a plant but something you can climb
First, it starts from a pebble, to a hill, to a mountain
Which will pour sweet waters down from its fountain
I am the biology of belief
Hip Hop is full of stars
I can read astrology of the streets
Psychology of the Priest
Deep as the philosophy of the Greeks
The prophecies from the East
My mind holds the forbidden science
When I’m writing
Can I get a witness when I’m rhyming?
Can I hear a Amen?
Been doing this before cavemen
Been doing this before the ancients of language
Look at somebody and say God is not dead
Just nod your head
Listen to the bars that I said
Words from the Matrix
My eyes are the spaceships
My mouth is the oasis
I zone on these phrases
I CAN HEAR THE ANGELS
But hold up
See why I look in the sky?
Inside of my soul is all the 12 tribes
And each of them channel in prayers to the Most High
Simultaneously and at different times
My right palm holds the strokes of one million scribes
Disguised as all twenty-seven bones inside
After my poem’s designed
Then I zone of the rhyme
In a black mist I exist
I spit and the sun was born
Using positive and negative protons and electrons
Rhymes were nuclear explosions
The atoms composing weak and strong
In one billionth of a second the galaxies were formed
Meteor showers, comet’s blast, loud and quiet storms
In my magnificent mind the problem was solved
Now let’s get creative
The rhyme is the data
And I heard these phrases
[Outro]
Look up into the heavens. What you see there is a vertical multitude
Of stars thrown across the empty spaces. Whereas the whole infinity
Of things might come down on us, how shall we not stand astonished
And abashed in seeing the immensity of heaven, and what
Greater still, that of a sovereign lord who made it? Chokma
Keter . . . hip-hop is not dead. Binah . . . Malkuth . . . real lyricism
Is not dead
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From the album