Yeah.
Once upon a time, it was a kid.
who used to meditate when no one taught him how to meditate.
He noticed he could control the winds, north, south, east and west.
Yeah.
Before there was a thing called hip-hop.
Same.
That was called art.
It was called art.
It was called art.
Time is a terrible thing to waste.
So the mind must think at a peaceful pace.
The magnitude of the destruction untold.
Countless souls after the drama unfolds.
It sounds like the soundtrack to the Turkish Army.
or the introduction to a gangster party.
The language is in the arrangement.
Priceless paintings.
Welcome to my royal chambers.
This the flow that left them drove crazy.
I'm from a time where the killers rocked haunted houses on gold cables.
This is great art.
For all you fake smart bootleg bargain bad business out the backyard brands crossing the burning sands.
Bands will make a dance.
I'm in the east of France over at the beach of Madrid.
I'm here to occupy my time and space.
Every line is grace.
My aura shining like a diamond face.
Dalai Lama, what a designer taste.
Devils ain't even kinda safe.
So get behind me, Satan.
God in me is wide awake.
That's why I'm swimming in a pile of cake.
My motherfucking style is great
Stop!
Stop!
Stop!
Thank you.
