Last Emperor Rap Tyranny Lyrics

Rap Tyranny Lyrics

Party people rock to this...
And all my deejays cut to this...
And all my
b boys break to this...
And all my fly girls shake to this...

Last
Emperor's back and you know upon hearing me
Emcees are scared so prepare for
Rap Tyranny
There's no comparin' me
Most men?
Fearin' me
(Broke no
it's a rarity???)
Mics I hold dear to me
Cool and sincere one
People
wanna hear from
Words penetrate eardrums like spearguns
Run
home
Unknown places I appear from
It ain't none of that jumpin' off over
here son
I clocked you
Beat you
Had to stop you
Greet you
I
write rhymes in Hebrew, Arabic and Greek too
I get so high, the slightest
drop is lethal
Like the South American city of Macchu Picchu
Ladies say I
do my thing with a passion
Brother like the way I swing into action
When
I'm not coolin' in the crib, just relaxin'
I'm out in the streets with the
Red Army faction
I specialize In microphone vandalism
Surround sound, or
better yet panoramic vision
People of Earth know and understand the wisdom
from
Monotheism to third-world animism
I get the best of men as the
record spins
I stretch my limbs and rhyme till the session ends
No matter
if, we enemies or the best of friends
Against the Emp you can never expect to
win...

(chorus)

Subjects and predicates
Proper mic
etiquette
All beef, I'm deadin' it
Hip-Hop confederate
Face me, you
better get
High priest and Jesuits
Against the Emp your attempts will
seem effortless
I make the girls wanna kick their heels up
Klingon
warships throw their shields up
Rippin' the reels up
Wounds never heal
up
Mad Soul controls the razor-sharp steel cuts
High Tech or
digital
Audio or Visual
Man or Machine can't defeat the
Aboriginal
Rippin' through
My words are poisonous and medicinal
With
the power to heal and at the same time, cripple you
You don't get a chance
to rhyme
This is battle time
Even the brolic get silent like a
pandomime
The nicest point guard couldn't even handle mine
With more
magical music than Rogers and Hammerstien
I made it to the top with a crew
of born losers
They told me the game was locked till I tore through it
I
get more props than a movie by George Lucas
In two-thou look out for the
Storm Troopers
Don't sweat mine
Learn to respect mine
I bring womb to
the REC Room when it's rep time
Blast like nine shots
Travel like
TimeCops
Aiyyo Mad Soul, this is where the rhyme stops...