Текст песни Century 21 (Megalon) с переводом

Monstas

Thugging through your stratosphere, sky portraits got you open

And horoscoping

Monsta Island. My Uzi weighs a ton. My Uzi weighs a ton

Yo

Many leaps of faith with shocks missed and waited, sharp jewels

Became more sophisticated, got Emerald City wishes and made it

Precious stone, tenement styles are innovated, beat the odds

Out of casinos in Hell. Heavyweight wrists, son, taking what?

Asiatic galactic, super Nubian Jesus, deities out

The East stay shitting on riot polices. From fly FUBU

Fleeces to leaves with fat creases, remember every member of my family

Tree is God, limb-to-limb b-boy polytheist

Monsta Jet Knievel fly through the eye of a needle, pack a nickel-plated

Medieval, silver spears causing mass upheaval. While you’re

Praying for my downfall, I stay spraying your whole cathedral

Spirit prolific, iron to rip it specific, scriptures pre-Neo-

-lithic—take my word for it like a film critic. Nasty, born

To spray-paint the White House in explicit hieroglyphics

Premonitions of Genesis, four hundred year prime nemesis

Grammar like a Hammer—"U Can’t Touch This" black lyrical supremacist

Snitching nigga blow whistles, swift niggas dump missiles

Local, unofficial, all-eye-seeing dark crystal

I’ma solar broadcast, using low-frequency smoke signal

Unoriginal prophets from your sex or crime sales

Shake down your lying rhyme tales where every other line fails

Compared to mine, your stale, lackluster, weak shine pales

Measure my date of origins in planetary time scales

No surprises, et tu Brutus, back-stabbing-ass Judas

I bear witness, peeping through your whole outline like you a nudist

You clueless

It’s Black Jesus. I went to Queens and got my wings

Gat squeezes, but everything ain’t what it seems. He pack

Heaters, put one in your spleen and run up on dreams

Black divas shaking their thing for the king

Black Jesus, broken glass all over the place

At the Greek Fest, ass all over the place

Black Jesus, scabs all over my face

Black Caesar, gats all over my waist on my way

To court. CO’s harass you, do things they don’t have to do

Time to serve fast food, 64 with six bags of cashews

Take collateral, cash rules, my gats’ll move more caps than you

Rap Jews have never had jewels. I drop jewels international

Just left the Devil’s castle. My local vocal choke you and trap you

The joke is you—they're not laughing with you, they’re laughing at you

They’re laughing without you, they’re laughing about you. The born-in-Brooklyn

Bad news, back to you with some more bad news (Blasphemy)

Believe me, Black Jesus. You blast for me, I’ll blast for you

Actual facts are thrown at you. Tommy Gunn

Rodan—when we die, our heads be statues

Intellect reflect, refine. Bop your head, respect mines, godly

Signs, supreme A-Alike minds attracting shine, divine

By design. Sit back, relax with a dime, mark the days

Swear by the time when all snakes fall behind single

Line and weak spine. True and living pop rewind, seek

Knowledge to nines and let your thoughts incline

Century is 21, wack shit get more rotation then the

Earth around the Sun (My Uzi weighs a ton)

Bust you in your

Forehead four times with a four-four, make your whole

Face look like a candy apple. I’ll grab you and throw in the clap at you

My attribute (Who?), the Black Jesús. I could’ve

Tackled you in the tabernacle and did what I had to do—that'll do

Pass dudes gratitude. I ain’t mad at you, my tattoos a temple

Too. Supernatural, could’ve clapped you. Instead, I catch you

Angel of Love and Angel of Death just passed you

Don’t look in the back of you. In the Rapture, I’ma rap to you wack

Emcees. Like a sneeze, I’m coming at you/achoo

Blasphemy. Black Jesus. You blast for me, I’ll blast for you

Rodan, back to you

Yo

My flows, through combinations through sound, go to town. No jokes

For you Jack-Nicholson, Weird-Al-Yankovich-ass clowns

Pound for pound, swing a Major League Forty-Four like Hank Aaron

Architect supreme, «Macking My Knife» like Bobby Darin, broad-jump

Males, scrub bitches riding my rail, chasing my Holy Grail now

Feeling me like braille, gas-mask wack faggots on wax, make

Sands track to max out of jail now. Municipal bondage and county

Housing, we was gods fed up. Sound knowledge, none of these dicksucker

CO’s could see a line to head up. Piledriver persona with a

Chevy Tacoma, one owner, one corpse in the trunk, decayed

Body aroma. Slip and slide from Daytona, a thousand miles across

The deserts of Arizona, solar nova corona, Sahara

Heat donor, my Uzi shine bright and gave thirty-three beams of light glaucoma

Petty hearts harbor jealous lust, infected brain cells suffer

Cellarous. I grew up here, and true could fellas bust

See divine blood and archangels kiss the sky, smoking stellar dust

Whatever gush, my treasure plush plus a pleasure rush

From every Beretta crushed, a physical sport, deadly biblical thought

The original man taught: dump the body in the Nile River

Peel out in the 2000 digital grand sport, animation

Undetectable, your life’s unethical, public during a spectacle

Skeptical hits don’t amount to shit like my piss in a receptacle

Rodan

Tommy Gunn—when we die, our heads be statues

Intellect reflect, refine. Bop your head, respect mines, godly

Signs, supreme A-Alike minds attracting shine, divine

By design. Sit back, relax with a dime, mark the days

Swear by the time when all snakes fall behind single

Line and weak spine. True and living pop rewind, seek

Knowledge to nines and let your thoughts incline

Century is 21, wack shit get more rotation then the

Earth around the Sun (My Uzi weighs a ton)