Fuck the industry -
I see through
the smoke and cocktails
Hard rock
ever since the days
of rockwell
All hail the cryptic
the misfit the blown
the most unknown
the illmatic mystic
i walk the narrow
path of the pharaoh
flow like fine wine aged in oak barrels
the sun is callin’
to raise souls of solemn
like the morning dew
Pour the brew for the fallen
the ones that fell
from the glocks that blast shells
turning hollow-points to brass bells
collect the residuals
we are
3 dimensional beings
and kings trapped in physical
the black aristocrat
Builder of the Ziggurat
the architect of this shit never
twist the facts
speakin testament
from flesh to the death of it
Alpha to Omega,
creation to creator
-the architect
it gets deeper,
the sleeper
awakes from the slumber,
to Calculate the infinite
the beast and his number
the son of the metropolis,
droppin shit,
the oracle
seated high on the Acropolis
author of the sanskrit
receiver of the broadcast -
band with
cigar ash on the manuscript
Villainous prophet of the coptic texts
and when he starts to bust he like to axe who’s next
seen angels on the A-train, demons in the boardroom,
Gods at the corner store, devils in the war room
youth turns savage
when the truths redacted
the secrets stay
hidden in the Emerald Tablets
they trade
true magic for the plastic
the trap for the classic
underground boom bap shit
new mcs
never say shit that moves me
when im locked in
I drop gems like a jewel thief
free the halo
unleash the pay load,
turn pure lead to gold pesos
Smooth Hypnotic
Sonic is the mood
Platonic Solids live in Metatron's Cube
we look the the stars
put man on the moon
but god remains
architect of the groove
