Iconoclasts (Long Version) [feat. Killah Priest & Vast Aire]

WisemenWisemen 

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Wisemen

"Wisemen" is a pop rock song written by British singer James Blunt, Jimmy Hogarth and Sacha Skarbek for Blunt's debut album Back to Bedlam. The song was produced by Tom Rothrock and Jimmy Hogarth. The song was released as the second single in the first quarter of 2005 and reached the top fifty in the United Kingdom, peaking at number 44. Following the success of "You're Beautiful" and "Goodbye My Lover", "Wisemen" was re-released in the spring of 2006, number 21 in New Zealand, and at number 23 in the UK. The song was met with positive reviews. more »

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I spit it these lyrics, so vivid, they pictures
On project walls, twelve feet tall, hell greets, y'all
Fire brimstone, I write grim poems
Edgar Allen Poe with the flow goes the silencer
Upon the cold nozzles of the four-four caliber
No more challenger, bullet show like Gallagher
Ink pens in my hand, like a spray paint can
The canvas is your mind, the black Michelangelo
Hands'll sculpt, the Eiffel tote, the mics I broke
Residue lead to a trail, another Priest tale
Death I brew, the witch-lord-king, that rip off wings
When I spit 16, it gets extreme, explicit scene
No more dreams, just cold screams, happening
Reoccurring rappers wanna perform, they need insurance

My cyclone poem, fix the roof of the Superdome
You crash your plane to my building, just tryna get on
And it's a vein, cold rain, write my words in propane
Keep the, heat in store, like the stoves in Maytag
Carry more blades than grass in your yard, grab your rake
I'm original, man on the take, burn to the shake
Roll and blow, the soul of pharoahs out the blood bank
The Wu-Fam armory, my beats got bodies
Know the roll you in the grave with the tip of a shotty
Pasidena lobby, bullet holes from robbery, probably
Veins made of cobblestone, bitches go home wobbly
Capture life like photographs, double stuff hash
Pure mid-serious grim, with verbal whiplash
From the fetus to the overseer, I bleed it
Nigga, you'll climb a Crystal Mountain, just to try to go see it
My life is a movie script, John Singleton reading
The blood flow like magma, hotter than traps in Eden
Send shockwaves like circles from objects dropped in lakes
I spray phrases, til the brain can't operate
Discombobulate, the populate, Texas Chainsaw locker grip
Cardinal robe, Wu symbol conglomerate
Team would rather fall than be spit in the face
Jesus asked God when I'm dropping my next tape
Nigga, Bronze colored disc, razor blade shape

End endurance, niggas is rap at spitting raps
Get back to whatever ya'll was doing before that
It ain't working for you, no one's even heard of you
Tried to get ya grams up, wound up with your hands up
I'm a bonafied hustler, slash M.C
The first on the stroll, and the last to leave
I ain't rich, so the streets is my blueprint
And it just so happens, I can translate it in music
Roll a dutch as long as a pool stick
And make sure everybody down for this movement
Niggas is apple pies, soft as coolwhip
And Detroit cats be the last niggas to fool with 

Throw a rose down inside my grave, massage my dead brain
With oils of the soil, inside the dirt I bathe
Unclaimed as a slave, with the heart of Virginia
Unsigned for light years, now it's pitch black, my nigga
Fearing the legend, the reverend, predicted the cold night
Black ski mask, yo, I'm the cross in your sights
I climb the hill of the ill with a concrete sword
And roam my hood, yo, as the hero of the world

Spit lessons for the old school niggas and adolescents
Fabric fly material blessing dress in my body
Addicts is lively hot sessions sweating in seconds
Tracks is robbery draining me out from what's inside of me
Message of static, me and this mic is like a manic
Pulls is mad thick
Is solid smoke dope it's magic
Attacking my brain fried spitting lines that's bonafide
I Lost a live first on my block I seen this mortified

Pass me the dutch, I'll fill it up
I wrote this rhyme in the corner, like I was a dunce
If I, told ya twice, I told ya once
That's word to the China man that sold you fronts
You be number nine, I did not stutter
The sun is my dad, the moon is my mother
Look dude, there is no other
Like the Three Wisemen, that came from Persia
To bless Je-sus, peace to Baby Jesus
I'm becoming a Buddha, this is my thesis
I am the chosen, I've walked on water that wasn't frozen
And you can talk shit, but look at your lip, now it's busted
Sorta like burgundy, bubbling custard
I don't wanna discuss it
I'm on another level, come on, man, look at my mustard
That's Grey Poupon, what planet you on
You wanna take my oil, I show you my rocket
You wanna take my chain, I'll break ya eye socket
Kamikaze, you can't stop this
Divine wind, I'm climbing
To reach, higher states, your drowning
Sitting on the same corner, frowning
This is L.X.G., microphone clowning

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