BISHOP LAMONT - The Resurrector lyrics

rate me

My condition in this mic time is scenes with custom motto

Pure animal, flammable, no Don King or pre Robing Gibbons

No bitches getting my dollar, setting up a trust fund for my daughter

Put her through college ‘cause she ain’t never put through what I was put through

I promise, no façade, I’m really a god

You fucking frauds oughta really pay homage

I sit with revolutionaries, killers, scholars and prophets

Build louds with old timers, freedom fighters, iconic

I’m a real nigga, fuck it with these hip hop topics

Ain’t dropped an album yet and I can jet to the Tropics

Put that in your gospel, no squad, no bodyguards when I move through the streets

A butcher nigga, I rap with my own beef

One life, one love, one got a course, I go for dolo

Get on superstars, may go for fans to slap bands and take photos

And still got my four four, don’t make me act, react, attack, clap

And black light you off the quota

You on point, homie?

All the time, homie

Is you on point, dog?

All the time, dog

Is you on point, nigga?

All the time, nigga

Well then grab the microphone

And let your words drip

You on point, homie?

All the time, homie

Is you on point, dog?

All the time, dog

Is you on point, nigga?

All the time, nigga

So play the resurrector

And give the dead some life

Boys are bitches, target in my arm, I burn you like Blair witches

Niggas swear they hot and they bumping like bad itches

Blood baths if you throw me in a batch with whack niggas

I’m a murderer, you can send a message through the currier

Express angle stress when you dress to be inferior

Switching up their top 5, this day is earlier

And I’m just having fun eating rappers quite curvier

Yes, you can, I bet you can cry me a river

Charge it again, fill up on names like plain rivers

Snow here where I grew up, rally with my stuff on

Worldwide to their eye they calling me the new son

Shine on ‘em, burn, put their ashes in pine box

Six feet deep between Nina and Medlock

Always on point, carry, I can handle that

Try on Q, dog, I leave how we hitting back

Woke up to the light burn a man different orange

With your ass up in here you gotta live to be born

Just lasers in storms, I’m scarlet digging

Just a small draft of what they plan, acidic rap, nigga, yo

You on point, homie?

All the time, homie

Is you on point, dog?

All the time, dog

Is you on point, nigga?

All the time, nigga

Well then grab the microphone

And let your words drip

You on point, homie?

All the time, homie

Is you on point, dog?

All the time, dog

Is you on point, nigga?

All the time, nigga

So play the resurrector

And give the dead some life

Nowadays they so mad at success

They really they just ruin the whole rap experience

Never once considering the fact they lack the fat shit, delirious

Delusional, I swear the act is lazy in you

Booty eyes rappers with your garbage eyes flooty poop

…clowns, stay down, you never understand winning

And I don’t give a fuck if you was in from the beginning

‘Cause for real these OGs are old fools

And both of you are rapping the latter

We outgrow you like palm trees to weeds

Say you monster siege, you never break down anyway

We put it down any state, any lane

‘Cause people relate to what’s banging

Not that I’ll solve ass explaining

If you go on but you couldn’t be moved

But since you gone we can only assume the game wasn’t for you

You on point, homie?

All the time, homie

Is you on point, dog?

All the time, dog

Is you on point, nigga?

All the time, nigga

Well then grab the microphone

And let your words drip

You on point, homie?

All the time, homie

Is you on point, dog?

All the time, dog

Is you on point, nigga?

All the time, nigga

So play the resurrector

And give the dead some life