“Our Kingdom” feat. Mac Lethal

I sit atop a mountain of old classics / it’s so tragic
Most have turned ghosts / through political caskets
I inhabit, a world who’s habits savagely slash
Any passion you have, in half, and ask for it back
In the form of a track / or any talent you have
Being managed by Prozac to hold back your sad
Ridalyn for happy / making (emotional) inches of valleys
They listen and harass me / send prescriptions in to catch me
I’m cache / on a mountain, sitting so high
Big L with red eye sight just strolled by
I Watch MTV as camouflage,
And make my way to the surface / with Nike’s and Bandanas on
Another tag along / with a catchy dance and battle song
Hoping my influence soon catches on
Grab a magic wand / tell the zombies, ’turn and pass my passage on’
’til my voice becomes a hand / moving plastic Pawns
now that my castles strong / due to moderns sorcery
I hand unique thoughts to all those who supported me
Some left disgusted / when their taste changed enormously
Other’s started yelling for a war against conformity
I led the charge / by writing verses honestly,
“I watch cartoons. You’re gun shit ain’t a part of me”
which inspired other individual artistry
and I was crowned king, for killing mediocrity
it’s us, the kings.

I’m just an earthling but ever since that birth thing
The words I bring have got fans thirsting for this verse king
First ring of the bell put these kids in a spell
Do it well like LL or that dude who had a Story to Tell
Battles get gory as hell, vendors with glory to sell
Beneath the surface, that’s where all the rawest warriors dwell
There’s more to explore at the core of my shell
Got you feelin’ like Cinderell at a quarter to twelve
(Pray tell) What would compel you to gamble with loaded dice?
Leave your whole camp in shambles by planting explosive mics
Clear the rubble, this troublesome trio does harm
Three Fugitives blame it all on a man with one arm
Towerin’ over a crowd in a courtyard
This poor bard performs for bored guards who work hard to absorb art
My best concepts stay hidden like report cards with all F’s
Take a wrong step and end up where the doors are
Be on the lookout for three written verses
That pose more of a threat than Egyptian curses
The slot machine reads three sixes, you need stitches
They can’t believe I’m still here like Keith Richards
A little dose of old school might save ya
Aztext and Mac Leth, the latest Kool-Aid flavor
Add Dub and E-Train and we reign supreme
An amazing team accurate as laser beams
You could say it’s us, the kings