Step Into My Zone

[Verse 1: Tragedy Khadafi] The nights is precisely on some light shit Roll dice and pyramids with ices The game’s at a crisis Dudes singing on tracks using all types of spaced-out devices A once resurrected soul is lifeless But I still won’t stop, not in the slightest Culture vultures, trying to steal our culture Labels mob on us like Francis For Cobbella Turn my vocals up, I’m a soldier ‘till the world’s over Cinematic on play, lay closer to Jehovah It’s not over I’m trying to tell y’all now, it’s not over Masonic lodgers trying to get inside us Two-five survive or die riders we the livest Cosine with militant guerillas spit Bleed for the craft so any track I’m killing it [Hook] Step into my zone, mad rhymes will stifle ya Suckers get pushed back when I’m kicking real facts Yeah, that’s right Step into my zone, mad rhymes will stifle ya No double checking Vocals kill like weapons [Verse 2] I don’t give a cotton picking if you living large or competing large You deceiving through your mirage Not just because, retards, you know we breathing for a cause Like we supposed to, you getting closer to seeing God Aiming for high, thought you knew dude inspired by the Juice Crew Live wired I’d advise you loose screw From a handshake, the man is a snake Butter me up like landau lake I had all I can stare and then take Risk his life for his brother man, Richard Roundtree Aware of my curcumas, and bound to me missing surrounding me While you snoozing, sound asleep King of underground crowning me I stowned it to a t Lights out when I hit the circuit breaker Got them nervous when I do them service player Your circle is a circus straight up Camp is full of antics, amusing with laughter Pretty young things ain’t ready So it’s cougars I’m after [Hook] [Verse 3: Blak Madeen] I'm from the (?) that's the born God bill Trying to get to the Heaven Gates, yeah, your boy got skills Spitting verses without curses, yeah What's a wordsmith making saliva purses Turkish sufi's and Arabic freedom fighters My face is hard to read like the freedom writers And the headband'll say, 'Pardon you, God' Not to part with shades on, it's on the Qur'an Check chapter 58, verse 22 We on the straight path when you Henny and brew Plenty of crews, just can't compete with Madeen It's next Malcom X on the streets of the beam Or in the Roupons, and Allah or queens Salam Aleikum, (?) Or snatchers been out rust or stay warm You pray to God, shaytan, he prays on the yawn