masters of the game - soul kid klik lyrics
[hook: all]
i’m on a path to perfection, travelling a road
where evil souls be lurking at the intersection
i know my destiny’s to shine like gold
for the soul kid name, be a master of the game
[infamous mr. savage]
yo, my third eye elevates, and focuses the heat it generates
to the earth, til it disintigrates
born a master of the game, the solar controller
who crushes and civilized minds like a bulldozer
it’s all over, when i return like jehovah
crossbow c-cked on my shoulders, dropping jewels like boulders
they should of told ya, the infamous, i reign superior
inferior crews, who lack get pierced exteriors, now
who be the master of this so called game?
when i hit the self destruct b-tton, and blow this world to flames
ain’t nothing changed, i’m from the woods, it stays the same
where sleepy hollow point tips, penetrate ya brain
remain still, cuz thoughts k!ll whenever i build
reveal truth, on the real, manifested through sk!ll
my team is coming on hard, and can never be stopped, cuz
not only did i master this game, i got it locked
[storm da ghetto mutant]
hip hop, hoes, tempted by money and gold
f-cking for the demo or a spot up in a video
waiting on the meth to get they t-tties sucked
third eye shut, no knowledge of the steel you clutch
your style fraudulant, posin’ as a lyricist
you’re living off the thoughts of another man’s consciousness
corrupted seeds, lost in a wilderness
making it hard, for the true to exist
but i persist, discipline to master it
the art of sparking, building with the intellect
system immune to the ways of the harlot
storm da ghetto mutant, got y’all b-tches marked for target
smashin’ fantasies of the rap starlet
trail blazing, going into waters uncharted
wide awake, never sleeping on the path
making b-tches feel the wrath, from a master of the craft!
[hook]
[g-clef da mad komposa]
yo, my style was translated from ancient cave writings
of pictorial hieroglyph depicting pharaohs smoking spliffs
shinee sonji sunji so, which in ancient chinese means, act like you f-cking know!
or should i say f-cking knew? the essence of my lessons is blueprinted within you
mad komposa, m-th-f-cka, sample chip orchestrations from the heavenly harp conductor
i’m bungee jumping off the surface of ur-n-s
creating sick test tones, breaking microphones into fragments
yo infamous, please hand over the magnets
i’m try’nna make a truth serum from electrified zagnuts
because g-clef, i be the b-tterfinger
you know, the dusty track gutter slinger humiliating ya stutter singer
my baseline pattern predicts the future
and if ya style crash, don’t worry, i’ll just reboot ya
[goodfella mike g.]
yo, neapolitan, paisan, calabrese
cosa nostra faction from the castamalo race
sicilian godfather boss of bosses, mafioso
organized crime underground virtuoso
black hand, made man, avanti magisterial
syndicate chief, goomba grand imperial
mustache pete, all world don vito
operating undercover, quiet as kept, incognito
the master of the game with the rothstein brain
i maintain like gigante with the claim ‘insane’
i’m the mikey francese, the don genevose
carlo gambino, sam anthony calisi
or frankie the wop, pete the k!ller, mickey eyes
the mobster murder incorporated wise guy
goodfella mike g., you know the man you all fear
time to make the pasta, get the f-ck outta here
[blakspik]
i was born son of ham, cuz my skin tone is that of the original
who ruled the savage land with an iron hand
my mind’s possessed with stress that is evil
i look into my inner soul but still have no control
they say the eyes are the window to the soul
but how can i control what i can’t touch and can’t hold?
i’m frustrated with the cards life has dealt me
i try to maintain, but i’m deaded by the devil’s reign
my circ-mference is evil, but i don’t care
i face the east immovable in the square
teleport my thoughts so i become the master
stressed to test, and say farewell to the flesh
who makes war with the beast, the revelation quotin’ ?
stepping into battle, with my vest and my pistol smokin’
so beware of the cl!ck that’s coming at cha
joakim the blakspik, born power
who’s the master?
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