ANA JOHNSSON - 6 Feet Under

They call me lyrical...Jesus

They call me lyrical...Jesus

I'm only second to...Jesus

I'm only lyrical...Jesus

Now as I'm peeling myself down off of the crucifix

Smiling like Jesus in the den of thieves tempting bitches

Like the serpent tempted Eve

Making it rain for seven days and seven nights

Had several beats and several careers and several fights

My lyrical rites make your spine hottest

My rhymes stand out like a white boy on the Globetrotters

Only child stuck up, selfish

Buy my records and shine my shoes, treat a nigga like Elvis

Ancient, melodic, mystic messiah

Make MC's heads bob like Muhammad Ali's from Parkinson's disease

Flows you get lost in

Louder than Michael Irvin when he's snortin'

Taking a time machien to talk my mommy into giving an abortion

I don't want to hear you wack motherfuckers hating me

Niggas is Australian they're so far beneath me

Ever since Pac dissed me, Jersey tried to front on me

Now I'm so vain/vein you could probably draw blood from me

So why you doubtin?

I'm embezzling more money than Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's accountant

And spitting blood like Gene Simmons but that's irrelevant

This industry prays I go away like Arrested Development

Smilin(?) in a tenement

Now they got me on rewind to dig up a piece of my mind

But if y'all dig any deeper you might not like what you find

Pac died and I cried but I'mma represent it

When it comes to dissing my shit make Makaveli sound like Macarena

Jesus Christ superstar immunity

Got you apologizing like Marlon Brando did the whole Jewish community

Hiding like Anne Frank, your mind is stomped like I wrote Mein Kampf

Changing stone rhymes to bread with one wave of my hands

Son of God, defy me better have a whole army

Or make plans to leave America using the maps of Marcus Garvey

Back up off me, nah nigga it ain't all good

My name is offa more blocks than Lexuses is Puerto Rican neighborhoods

Make you shut the fuck up, like wifey when the fight's on

Lyrical Jesus, I got Satan sleeping with the lights on

I have existed before man and will exist after man

I am an everyman yet I am no man therefore I am a God

Sounds odd

But my talent is priceless

So I rise on the wicked and the good

And rain on the righteous and the unrighteous


They call me lyrical...Jesus

I'm a spiritual...Jesus

I'm only second to...Jesus

Straigt up, yo Kurt drop some old school shit

Drop an old beat so we can reminsce on something check it

Rappers stepping to me...they wanna get some

But I'm XL so yo, you know the outcome

Another victory, keep that gun in your holster

My rhymes is off the wall like my Big Daddy Kane poster

I gets a lot of love the beat searchers hate it man

Come as recycled bullshit but you're leaving as a Chino fan

That's how I know I'm God; nobody believes in me

I make you wait while I stand in handicapped parking legally

Erik Estrada making chips

Handling fists to get rich

I'm going overboard like strong-willed Africans off of ships

Illest lyrics ever invented, said it, meant it

You're hearing more claps than inside a Vietnam V.D. clinic, get it?

Listen inattentive and get no wins

Don't make me get beside myself like identical twins

My cynical friends still quoting my old rhymes, my mind is a gold mine

The shit is bugged like Martin Luther King's phone lines

Closed minds mass phenomenon, starving like Ramadan

If lines was episodes of Star Trek you niggas couldn't Kling-on

Bugged out metaphor

Got east coast bitches saying "No he didn't"

While down south bitches be like "Oh no, hell no"

I made a man blind

So he didn't have to witness the wickedness of world gone cold

Falling off on stages like Bob Dole

Chronic keep my balance

Cause good and evil are having a custody battle over my soul

Like Macaulay Culkin's parents

My hair's like lamb's wool, so fuck what your friends say

You don't want to get off on the wrong foot like Kunta Kente

So now it's going down, ta-dow

Niggas better learn how to rhyme

Before they tell the lyrical Jesus he should bow down

Love your enemies, even in the lion's den

Turn them to a pillar of salt, forgive them Father they know not why they sin

Niggas coming sideways, and I've been that in the past

But now I'm half past giving a shit

And at a quarter 'til I'mma bust your fucking ass!

Just chill

They call me lyrical...Jesus

They call me lyrical...Jesus

I'm only second to...Jesus

They call me lyrical...Jesus

I'm sending rappers to...

Guess I have to explain this one too.

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