lirik lagu omega man – tremone
[intro]
yeah, yeah, the land of the lost, a place where we dwell
[verse 1]
we from a lost land where there’s mcs, not pop bands
when i was cold, gettin’ done, you would rush fans
now you’re actin’ like this rap sh-t was meant for
any sap that’s handin’ in a forged rap consent form
it’s trench war, smell the death stenchin’ flesh, raw
the rest of y’all ain’t even fit to f-ckin’ bench-warm
this ain’t a rent form, you can’t fake a reference here
now, pay your penance, or as tenants you’ll be yesteryears
hard pressed to hear any new verse that’s nearin’ par
worth appearance fees are fit to charge 16 bars
yeah, i hear ’em sayin’ hip-hop’s p-ssed
but i’mma resurrect the b-tch and rip the lid off its casket
spit sharp as marksmen, 6th comin’ of rakim
a craftsman, sergeant at arms, graspin’ stardom
spit blisterin’ scripts, convicted arsonist
murderers purgin’ the scene like joseph stalin
my flow’s slalom, skied up, nose blown
i’m chargin’, stage divin’, wrath of kane live, apollo, harlem
hall of fame name draped in martyrdom
a lone figure flyin’ the flag like it’s tiananmen
[hook]
we from a long lost planet where rap is real
still intact and untapped by the m-ss appeal
(the way that i feel can never be healed
and all we left with is a memory feel)
[verse 2]
we from a lost land where the clocks hands are stopped
before the rot set in, before they shot scott la rock
before the shops stocked rap in a section called urban
and every third person’s thinkin’ they’re word surgeons
but y’all virgins, first come, first served and
squirt ya nut with the first pump of called curtains
i got this b-tch’s skirt hitched up, mid t-t-f-ck
but it ain’t feel the same since the game got that nip-tuck
now it’s all plastic, lackin’ core fabric
and i’m lookin’ at the front door like main source is cl-ssic
sh-t, i ain’t about to go and bounce from a sinkin’ ship
but things are grim reapin’ on the brink of extinction
with original blueprints, guidelines and standards
am i the only one who took them time’s up rhymes for granted?
(of course we gotta pay rent, so money connect)
but i’d still rather be broke and have a whole lotta respect
it’s the principle of it, i get a rush like i’m dusted
crushin’ these motherf-ckers is what i’ve become accustomed to
my flow’s effortless, no rest, i pepper this
mic like my life dependin’ on a walkin’, glowin’ reference
[hook]
we from a long lost planet where rap is real
still intact and untapped by the m-ss appeal
(the way that i feel can never be healed
and all we left with is a memory feel)
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