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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...
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