Gee-Eye-Zee - Amadeus/Sale Therapy lyrics

We ain't playing around, yo we getting ready to drop a new one, Amadeus Verse 1 (O'hene): I clearly study theories of Roger Sperry Implications of learning genius were kinda airy In the monastery ignored the monetary Without a worry, where laws were arbitrary I took what was considered vapid and made it cla**ic Mapped with syntax and a vyzatine[?] fashion They cried camerical[?] I dropped a miracle Literary synergy so of course it's lyrical, man My brain synapses surpa**es rappers You average ba*tards go back and practice Please stop messing with the O Executive control is the method of my flow I tried professor Wetner's[?] approach of embracing my thoughts Only to discover I'm thinking of rhyme much more The griot in me is apparent, look at my appearance I'm hearing spirits suggesting what I say in my lyrics In coherence with the incoherent My mental baring to the left to pay for my artistic depths ‘cause I'm the lost pharaoh, the rebirth of Isis The righteous descendent from the lords of Isaac An artist that's deeper than the salt of the ocean Or the sedimentary rocks, where's aphotic? I stay focused replicating a great opus Protuses[?] reminiscent of the late Moses Scholars would say prowess phonetic cowards I find your reticent vowel-less attempts powerless Compile this in Da Vincian font A peregrination of rhymes strictly for the savant To renaissance, scholastic approach to flipping a flow Only the inquisitive can listen to O Mozart's mosaics most say it's the truest You need hermeneutics to view it or to review it Don't be stupid, I spew with neo-cubic music Fused with Confucian text and yes Euclid Elusive thoughts is viewed with new tricks Blueprints laid for neo phonetic acoustics Who's this softest novice that comics topics So complex the optics cannot describe it Logic is defied with synoptic topics My mind is as prophetic as Nostradamus yo Yo we getting ready to drop a new one, Amadeus Verse 2 (Neo P): I'm back in the building again Concealing the pen, flow with the realest of men Neo P and DN3, beats rising, keep rhyming Whether it's written or freestyling RAHM Nation hardcore to the core Jaws fall to the floor Amazed like you never saw it before This is real rap from real cats that twist and peel caps Philly where I polish my sk**s at My rage is put on pages then stages I'm blazing hearing the cheers of men's praises ‘cause I hold thangs like Coltrane Flows is propane, with a match burning you no-names Me, Ra and O prescribe the flow I'm trying to take my sk**s as high as the skies'll go You got a problem, child? Then I got Problem Child To solve them how? With mad syllables and a lot of vowels Verse 3 (O'hene): I jot poems from deep inside a dome And try to flow ‘em to the melody of xylophones Out in Cameroon, I'm part bobcat and baboon Spitting the acid that's like green and maroon Damn buffoons, your ignorance is just typical I come whipping you 'til the sting un-n*iggas you I'm difficult to describe you decide If you want the mental flippin' and discipline of a Buddhist scribe The music live with rhymes that do imply Youths should unify and try to rise with Buddha ties Cutie pies, I pull out the whip cream While you waste cream on whips, I'm driving Christine And this team is the sickest Equipped with equipment to rip with a vengeance that's endless Verse 4 (Random, aka Mega Ran): I'm better with predicates, you pathetic with rhetoric I ain't never been hesitant It's RAHM Nation, got a level of excellence Committing rhymes to memory, I shred all the evidence Get off scot-free, I'm rougher than hockey Your boy nice but he not me, top three Me myself and I 'til the day I touch the sky Be fully customized sitting high above the lies I love hip-hop but it really ain't no comp You idiot savants won't give me a response I literally stomp Sasquatch why not? Pull cats outta they whip like operation live stop I'm fully certified verbally I murder guys Fertilized minds leave your mic cords circumcised Phenomenal chronicles bombing you Styles like Miles got these rappers feeling kinda blue I could get you with a line or two But wackness is impossible like random rock in a Prada shoe This is destined, I'm doing what I gotta do The honorable kinda dude, y'all ain't got a clue Verse 5 (Storyville, aka Problem Child): Here it is a man here, hip-hop's grand [?] Problem Child swinging off the chandeliers Who's the best? The facts plainly clear It's black and white like some panda bears Damn the man upstairs if he ain't give me the chair These fellas endless here so they always taking care Folks, holding they toasters close to holsters We La Costa Nostra poster-boys drinking ambrosia here Man it gets colder than Boulder we still smolder Like Arizona summer sunny we soldiers yeah Paint rhymes from the canvas unleashing phantoms In your face like Blair Witch amateur cameras yeah And ya never rhyme like I rhyme If ever my design some [?] drop puns[?] of pantomime yeah Let me remind y'all if I ever fall behind I'll be like never mind 'til then better beware