Eric Lynch - The End lyrics

[RZA] My acoustic pugilistic linguistic rap fabric Is a mixture of Arabic, plug 'em in Plug 'em in Plug 'em in, plug 'em in Come to spread it The world exclusive Check it From the underground producers Turn your face stone like Medusa Slap dick on a wicked b**h Or righetous ones weaken sons Those who burn hurt turn nuns I rekindle the flam With the name B.O.B.B.Y Make it a hobby Smoke the honey dip got my throat groggy You doo-doo brain dirtbag derelict dumbf** What the f** is wrong with you dickhead? Numb-nuts Just because you made a song or two What's the balance due on your royalties? Record companies spoil me As the wiz hot oil me f** that savage back up Wu-Tang step inside the club n***as might act up One potato Smack you like the crossfader Rap data, go back to pissy elevators Escape the projects, livin' inside the skyscraper f** that I'm takin' back the forty acres With the cream of nature (Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby) [Ras Ka**] (Huh) Yo, my Eve called 1-Adam-12, I got arrested At first she protested But on the seventh day I rested (son I always had the power!) Before the Midori Sour with red cherries Hereditary trait, seeking salvation like the Cranberries Wrote Murder with Angela Lansbury often Til my biological clock stops and my casket falls We sell tix [Celtics] like Boston basketball C-arson was askin' y'all Is Ras Ka** the last to fall victim for wearin' no mask at all? No gimmicks, just me bein' me But you ain't bendin' or offendin' me Cuz anyways Hennessy used to be a better friend to me But I had to stop drinkin' so many pints (Why?) 'Cuz the tendency to forget It ain't baseball, America's favorite national pastime is white Supremacy Never seen a n***a granted clemency My metaphors is meta-five My styles go up in your raw dog little boy You get f**ed, like pedophiles When it's all said and done I'mma retire to an island in the Caymans Enslavin' caucasians livin' off your mama's life savings I take it all in stride Dennis Rodmans laced to the side This n***a glide, like Clyde My hands was tied Silent cries screamed genocide When two-thirds of the planet died in the end The end justifies the means The end is power (Power) Power corrupts -- absolute power corrupts absolutely Young black man, let us begin (2X)