Masters of Illusion - Masters of Illusion lyrics
[Masters of Illusion - Masters of Illusion lyrics]
"Master of the mystic arts
In the name of the omnipotent Oshtur
I create you and bid you watch, carefully"
Rappers are weak
Most of them belong to Romper Room
They talkin bla bla
Baby stuff a lot of rah rah
I close my ears out, windows down
I don't hear 'em commercial raps turn pop
Two years they get dropped
Stop makin tracks
Factories stop they vinyl wax
That's on the pressin plant, break 'em down
To a compound most of these acts get tough
While labels hate they buttcrack
Rip out your rectum, your spinal cord
I dissect 'em stop your limit
Your style old like Dodge Plymouth
Chevrolet, Cabrolet
Your mic sounds in the hallway
Groovin you looped it, you start to write
You sound stupid your engineerin level
Bass and kicks sound like treble
Mix on your Tascam boards
Yo cheap extension cord
You're no comp for me
Your corny style smell like pee pee
I ride the C-C
While girls on the train beep me
Pump up my pager, models move, style major
Workin that stage back and forth
Like we Chuck and Flava
Rapamatic automatic, an' erratic fanatic
Fantastic measure, for your rappin pleasure
(oh yeah)
I'm kind of like a pothole in the field
Niggas gotta jump or move, or shake around
Either way they got to yield
How you gonna rap and sport a 'fill
You walkin in the middle of a storm
I cock back smack the backside of your mug
Attack and leave your ass deformed
Often don't believe when I perform
I'm givin you what you need to feel
That funk that comes around the
Backside of your head now orbitin for real
I'm off that bomb from East bay
That smoke that'll ? five
But, I take twenty sacks
Straight to the head, so here's my 25
Y'all know that Motion Man is live
And I'm about to make a switch
On it like a Satchel Paige pitch
My amazement will amaze them
And truly daze them drug 'em like a fix
Or maybe I'll drag 'em like a race
I don't talk behind their back
I tap 'em on the back and
Bring it to their face
I'm Donovan Bailey in a race
MC's pull up limpin so far, no rap star
Will match my lyric bazaar
I'm so crazy conceited
Rhymin 12 years with no money
Yo kid check it I'm heated
All y'all niggas blades of grass
While I'm Lawnmower Man
Crankin up with a full tank of gas
Pbbbbt, clearin the field
"I have seen too much"
In the name of the omnipotent Oshtur
I create you and bid you watch, carefully"
Rappers are weak
Most of them belong to Romper Room
They talkin bla bla
Baby stuff a lot of rah rah
I close my ears out, windows down
I don't hear 'em commercial raps turn pop
Two years they get dropped
Stop makin tracks
Factories stop they vinyl wax
That's on the pressin plant, break 'em down
To a compound most of these acts get tough
While labels hate they buttcrack
Rip out your rectum, your spinal cord
I dissect 'em stop your limit
Your style old like Dodge Plymouth
Chevrolet, Cabrolet
Your mic sounds in the hallway
Groovin you looped it, you start to write
You sound stupid your engineerin level
Bass and kicks sound like treble
Mix on your Tascam boards
Yo cheap extension cord
You're no comp for me
Your corny style smell like pee pee
I ride the C-C
While girls on the train beep me
Pump up my pager, models move, style major
Workin that stage back and forth
Like we Chuck and Flava
Rapamatic automatic, an' erratic fanatic
Fantastic measure, for your rappin pleasure
(oh yeah)
I'm kind of like a pothole in the field
Niggas gotta jump or move, or shake around
Either way they got to yield
How you gonna rap and sport a 'fill
You walkin in the middle of a storm
I cock back smack the backside of your mug
Attack and leave your ass deformed
Often don't believe when I perform
I'm givin you what you need to feel
That funk that comes around the
Backside of your head now orbitin for real
I'm off that bomb from East bay
That smoke that'll ? five
But, I take twenty sacks
Straight to the head, so here's my 25
Y'all know that Motion Man is live
And I'm about to make a switch
On it like a Satchel Paige pitch
My amazement will amaze them
And truly daze them drug 'em like a fix
Or maybe I'll drag 'em like a race
I don't talk behind their back
I tap 'em on the back and
Bring it to their face
I'm Donovan Bailey in a race
MC's pull up limpin so far, no rap star
Will match my lyric bazaar
I'm so crazy conceited
Rhymin 12 years with no money
Yo kid check it I'm heated
All y'all niggas blades of grass
While I'm Lawnmower Man
Crankin up with a full tank of gas
Pbbbbt, clearin the field
"I have seen too much"