Mr. Maje$ty 2
This is Mr. Maje$ty representin' on behalf of the 7th Sign Regime.
Thunderstorms when they mourn fallen angels/Mental methodical mind, niggas wanna tangle/365 I'm live at every angle/Mental methodical mind, niggas wanna tangle (Everybody knows 7th Sign got the hoes/Everybody knows we divine wit' the flows/Shouldn't have to tell you when it rains wear your coat/It's thunderstoms because we mourn the dope)
Manipulatin' metaphors I take full credit for/You can rest assured you'll never more suffer through flaw/You can steady toughen the law; they'll be harder criminal brushin' the shores/Tuck in your jaw/If your confidence is lower, minus lead blower, sinus flaired to the smallest odor/Tried to get open but just a file folder, next man style holder, weightless chest a tasteless death, I'm compound to be a sound souljah/On tracks compact, bolder abstract flava, drift like the mist holdin' a black fist with right shoulde/ Addition to the culture went fishin' with these vultures, enlistment predicted to be held over/Hired wired cobras to work front desk, smoke, dress the dress, pure moist no choice but to be less/His ploy to decoy the congress, skills, too broke to pay homage/In a craft he shows his ass, in a trash conglomerate/Had your staff astonished/Precise math, most dominant/Switch/Enchanted romantic mechanics will banish no talents damaged in fragments unbalanced and silenced/Stompin' the housing, crowdin' kids that's pounding playgrounds and courts where small missiles went through/So often a sport on the wrong course trailing the horse/Raps biggest divorce needs figures/For me, my niggaz: weed, food, and cloth/When the greed mood falls off, the danger remainder is a hard rock slagged soft/Walked past slop almost crushed by a bus, not lookin', in a rush, might have been a mascot for I.H.O.P. as human slush/Keep it lower than hush/The diploma for lust and slight comas when I bust and then again works skins to heavy musk, everready cuts/Coincidentally is simply a mystery melody rush
Percussion rushin', crushin' the sounds/The inner raggamuffin', got me bustin' them down/A nine milli really make a nigga worship the ground/Preparering kings. Courtship is now/Ignite torch for sundown/Quiz of a ninja disguised as a stupid nigga/This biz will injure the unwise and traumatize offenders/White lies turn shades of gray like skies in November/At the brink of dismay/My eyes will never flicker/Herbs, got the nerve to pray when the city gets sicka punks intellectually drunk with butter flies in their liver/Have no ties to the beginning/Cold fries, but I've put in work for dessert and dinner, no perks/Incentive: soul search the whole earth extensive/Had a low chirp, slow birth in placenta, incubated and escalated to contender/Pushin' through gush waitin' for air on must/Now sexually molest ovaries, finessed/Locally approach me with respect and royalty, Majesty (Majesty...)
And after this you'll call me "Your Majesty"
Motion sicknes prevents the wickedness from overseas magnificence/No talents with instruments, but the choke-hold vocals compensate the difference/Society full of menaces abnormal residents (It's like I'm floatin'/I think I'm floatin'/Got me open/I guess I'm floatin'/No jokin'/I'm movin' as my words are spoken/A vibe in groovin', lightening movement/I feel so exclusive)