That's it
That's it
That's it
That's it
That's it
That's it
That's it
That's it
That's it
Turn the page
on the day walk away
'Cause there's sense
in what I say
I'm forty-fifth
generation Roman
But I don't know em
or care when I'm spitting
So return to your
sitting position and listen
It's fitting
that I'm miles ahead
and they chase me
Show your face on TV
Then we'll see
You can't do half
My crew laughs at your
rhubarb-and-custard verses
You rain down curses
but I'm waving your hearses
driving by
Streets riding high
with the beats in the sky
All stare eyes glazed
Garage burnt down
The fire raged
for forty days
and in forty ways
But through the blaze
they see it fade
The sea of black the beaming heat
on their faces
Then a figure emerges
from the wastage
Eyes transfixed
with a piercing gaze
One hand clutching his sword
raised to the sky
They wonder how
They wonder why
The sky turns white
It all becomes clear
They felt lifted
from their fears
They shed tears in the light
after six dark years
Young bold soldiers
The fire burns
cracks and smoulders
Five years older and wiser
The fires are burning on
Fire never tire
Slay warriors in the forests
and on higher we sing
Hear the strings rising
The war's over the bells ring
Memories fading soldiers slaying
Looks like geezers raving
The hazy fog over the Bullring
The lazy ways the birds sing
A new baby's born every day
Few men may be scorned today
But look at things the other way
'cause it may well be
your final day
And then the crowds roar
They slay they all say
I produced this using
only my bare wit
Give me a jungle or garage beat
and admit defeat
Use war and past injury
as my metaphor and simile
Get all applications in to me
before the deadline
'Cause it's a fine line
between strifeful crimes
and a life of crime
But you will reach the day
and it's all mine
You can take it or leave it
I shake and reveal stage tricks
like Jimi Hendrix
In the afterlife
gladiators meet their maker
Float through the wheat fields
and lakes of blue water
to the next life
from the fortress
away from the knives
and slaughter
to their wives and daughters
Once more before
the Lord judges over all of us
It's in this place you'll see me
Brace yourself
'cause this goes deep
That's it
Turn the page
on the day walk away
'Cause there's sense
in what I say
I'm forty-fifth
generation Roman
But I don't know em
or care when I'm spitting
so return to your
sitting position and listen
It's fitting
that I'm miles ahead
and they chase me
Show your face on TV
Then we'll see
You can't do half
My crew laughs at your
rhubarb-and-custard verses
You rain down curses but
I'm waving your hearses
driving by
Streets riding high
with the beats in the sky
All stare eyes glazed
Garage burnt down
The fire raged
for forty days and
in forty ways
But through the blaze
they see it fade
The sea of black
The beaming heat on their faces
Then a figure emerges
from the wastage
Eyes transfixed
with a piercing gaze
One hand clutching his sword
raised to the sky
They wonder how
They wonder why
That's it
That's it
That's it
That's it
That's it
That's it
That's it