'ZONE' Lyrics

Monsta Island Czars (ft. Rodan) - “Sumthin’ to Prove” [Emcee(s): Rodan] [Producer(s): X-Ray Da Mindbenda] [Sample 1 (Hook/Riff): James Brown - “Never Can Say Goodbye”] [Sample 2 (Drums): B.T. Express - “You Got It I Want It”] [Intro: Samples] [?]: This is a special broadcast. Rodan has suddenly attacked. It’s Rodan. The attack started at 11 o’clock, and now he has destroyed everything in the city. Leaders have called out their defenses. There’s no doubt that this is the same Rodan who comes from Monster Island [?]: What’s gone wrong with him?!? [Verse 1: Rodan] Yo, fuck the intro Yo, keep crowds hailing me like a taxi, learned there’s more to life Than busting gats, B. How the fuck you gonna blast? You ass Like Andy Kaufman reading from the Great Gatsby Relax, G, get gassed up or let your lungs collapse, B Collect more gross income ‘cause my galactic rap status is Tax-free. Wile E. Coyote rhymers copped your wack raps From the factory at ACME—just the facts, B Urban dragnet, supreme architects serving dialect Bell curve side effect, Caucus Asian, latter years Coconut, almond, spiced Bacardi Dark, no taste for Flatter beers. Fronting with your mouth open, let me empty out My bladder here. Blowing like Jon Faddis, atomic air Traffic blacking out your stratosphere. Off the top of the locker Cleats on the mic, kicking flows, balling like soccer Slow niggas rambling on and on incoherently Like Chewbacca, used to be on the block corner, snow rock Betty Crocker, chrome showing, dome glowing, blowing Jewels growing out the side of my crown chakra You’re a killer gorilla or a babbling baboon? Part-time Wack-rhyming, no-bottom-line, circus-rapping buffoon On some pop shit like a balloon, carry out paper quest To stay fresh, stuck in a gay lifestyle, switching Like Mae West. Wise winds from the East squeezing at The Beast and stray West, gods locked down do the science and let The day bless. In jail, ain’t nothing to do but work out Jerk off, go to war, or play chess—what’s your degree? Cop a plea, change your story like the weatherman? Whatever Man, you ain’t fly like Rodan, you fly like Peter Pan In Never Never Land. Move mountains in telekinetic mode Escape the straight and narrow, floating over your pathetic road Rhymes written in genetic codes, Flightpope Ro’ perched Atop Five Pillars of Hip Hop, aesthetic soul. Come on [Hook: Sample] That’s bad, man! That is bad, bad, bad! He ain’t never done, that been never done on a record before. That’s bad, brother! That is bad. Believe me, believe me [Verse 2: Rodan] Ayyo, peace while I rest on this Pigeon whose back I’m digging. ‘Til Judgment Day, I’ll be my own Lord Self-Preservation be my religion, fly in the fastest Lane chosen, wings protected like safe sex in a la- -tex Trojan. Skiing uptown’ll leave your brain frozen Gat explosion leave warm blood flowing Internal organs exposing correlation to the cosmos Urban legends up the block, street theologians Headline a bill, throw a jewel at your grill, blackened steel Bring the heat like military fire drills, drop a Bombshell for real, units move half a mill, with or without A record deal, still give these crab industry, En Vogue Motherfuckers “Something They Could Feel,” aviator wristwear Elevated textiles, imported Timberlands from Switzerland scuffing up your reptiles. Niggas ain’t my son Gods treat you like a stepchild, take your booty Wack sex style, flush it in the cess pile. Mara- -thon lyrics, corny critics can’t run the next mile Abandoned outcasts in exile, never seen again Tossed or lost into the X-Files. Sold Luther that 9 Milli luger, attack the mic like a cougar geeked up Got phony thugs scared to speak up, make a nigga Balls freeze up, lay parallel to concrete, spraying Caps, tearing your knees up. 2000 years We’ll reappear, change the Earth in worldly ways Ancient of days, come to show the blind God in the form of a man That is worthy of praise, investigate doctrines High awareness through my lifetime, social issues that incite Crimes, make a generation of scholars live existence Between the white lines—no more sniffing, saying “Fuck a 9 to 5.” Now all I do is fucking write rhymes DJs scratch the wax like shaved balls, rabblerouse The popped dog like rebel slave calls, navigate The southern state like maze halls, chain, shining medallion Swinging like stalactites on cave walls Bounce the rhythm like a tambourine, step up on the scene With a monster theme and a third world dream, impale bubblegum Rap stars on microphones infected with gangrene Deconstruct contemporary pop culture to reinvent my own Mainstream. Come on [Hook: Sample] Yeah, brother! I tell you, brotherman! What you got there? You know what? We got a thing. You know what? [Verse 3: Rodan] Yo, my name was Rodan Before the wack Godzilla blockbuster, my name was Rodan Before stellar dust collected into the first star cluster Set up shop at the pearly gates, move an ounce while defending ‘em Cherubim on the mic, lyrically descended from Big Daddy Kane and Rakim and ‘em. Golden Age legacy platinum writer Of a new era, second millennium, triple CD blazing Up like three flavors of tropical weeds when you’re blending ‘em Connect ghetto slums to heavens, turn opposites to synonyms Bend grammar like antimatter, distort the space-time- -rhyme continuum, Five Percent rhetorical Prophecies like an oracle, bad luck to emcees like a Kennedy Reach across infinity, reestablish my divinity Between me and the eternally great enmity Imagine a natural-born enemy befriending me Offending me with what you pretend to be. How the fuck you a killer With blatant homosexual tendencies? Come on [Outro: Sample] That is unbelievable. That is unbelievable, man. Dagnabbit, that’s bad there! That’s sure ‘nough bad there, bro! You walked into that one, brother. Yo, I went through the zone, man, that’s it! That’s all I’ve done. Now that’s what’s happening! Freeze!”