Lyrics for Flow Of the Century(on my album)


It's A-List man,I got the flow of the century,
Lyrically dope is what you know every venture be,
A-List insane,it don't get sicker than that,
And I keep getting iller and slicker in fact,

Okay,before I get on and bust this the way that I bust this,
Get in the bus,sit,it's time to discuss this,like is it just this,
Or is it justice,now you adjust it,you see this is greater than lust is,
So no need to fuss,bitch,'coz you know this,man,if it's A-list he must spit,
And if he does spit,you will finally comprehend and figure,
What his buzz is,by God he has been now sent to trigger,
When he vents,it's sicker,than a test tube of cancer cells,
You see the pencils flicker,they don't answer well,
To the questions he's asking,and now a question you ask,
To the expressions he's maskin',you cannot lessen the task,
But you curious why he refers to himself in third person,
Is it because he's a psycopath who then observes persons,
Has two voices like Norman Bates did,
Is he on that fucked up "oh my god"Norman Bates shit?
But he ain't born in hate,kid,
You see this form is basic,
Through this song he says shit,and doesn't refer to himself as I,
Not 'coz he's plain sick,but 'coz he wants to die.

It's A-List and I got the flow of the century,
Lyrically dope is what you know every venture be,
A-List insane,it don't get sicker than that,
And I keep getting iller and slicker in fact,

Incase you forgot who's flowin' now,it's the indian emcee,
And fuck the site goin' down,online till six million and three,
That's how long I plan to live,I'm a man,I spit,
Whatever,I plan my shit,handle this,
You know what,I dismantle spits,
At the same time you know that the challenge is,
My talents sick,so with my talons,shit,
I fly in the sky and show yall who I be,
A to the L to the I-S-T,
That's right,I'm on top of the heirarchy,
And my fire be,to never retire,see,
'Coz none of you cats could decipher me,
My cyphers be on top of my game,
That's right,that's why I'm so cocky and vain,
My name is A-List and I'm on top of the playlist,
So just let me get on the mic and let me say this,
Now they ask me,"How can you rap if you're Indian?
"Bitch Ass Pussy!I never asked for opinions!",
Being Indian?Fuck being a nation,
I'm everything,I'm lyrical inspiration,
I'm hip hop,I'm not a man,I'm a bird,
I fly in the sky,now you may have heard,
That I observe cats to be iller than me,
Are really fictional,that's right,I'm a killer emcee,
And this filler it be so ill,
At the same time can't help but respect my skills,
And now the beat's going out,my producer's excited,
'Coz you know me,I'm on that hype shit,
I just won't stop rapping but the beat's going on,
But you know I can't help it,I'm just flowing strong,

So I got the flow of the century,
Lyrically dope is what you know every venture be,
A-List insane,it don't get sicker than that,
And I keep getting iller and slicker in fact.

Now a bitch is a female dog,but once translated in slang,
You see a few of us,we trail God while the rest basically hang,
Of those a few like to criticise and hate for no reason at all,
No matter the weather or the shit in the sky,they say 'tis the season to fall,
These few are the bitches around,their culture,it don't really exist,
I'm at the feast and I sit with my crown,look,the vultures clearly are pissed,
Then there's the other bitches,the ones that claim to love you,
All the hugs and smothered kisses,but the game it bugs you,
You get this odd feeling but you ignore and set it aside,
But like the wall's peeling,you go like it's expected,it's iight,
Till when the plaster slips off,the bitch was fake afterall,
Now them bastards is lost,no cushion to help your ass's fall,
So the bitch fucks up your perception of relationships,
Now your shit's stuck up,all the hurt stressin',now you hate this shit,
View all women as hoes,just like them other bitches fuck your musical spirit,
Started spinning in flows,now fake cats dictate how you bust and spew in your lyrics,
So you hang with only prostitutes,both literally and also in metaphorical form,
Now this thang it constitutes,the concept that's called in this song,
Now these are the bitches,but if you let them affect you,
Then you're what a bitch is,they dissect and they wreck you,
So you gotta be a dogg,walk on and not pay no mind,
It's amazing how these dudes all talk but never say no rhymes.

If God was an emcee,each man must be a bar in the verse,
And the lord can't be bent,see,there's no barring a curse,
You can't censor the almighty power,can't change or tune the station,
And the divine mic be powered,with the death you soon be facin',
You confused,you pacin'?Let me explain my theory in fact,
Pay heed to this communication,the thoughts i'm exploring in rap,
When a man dies,his life energy is converted to a different form,
What can't fall can't fly,you can observe the things in a storm,
Thunder,lightning,the showers of rain,all seperate forms of same energy,
There is no such thing as power in vain,now what you lames never see,
Is that energy will forever be existing in one form or the other,
Weak is just one form of life while strong is another,
It's all the same,physics combined with metaphysical facts,
So I done called the game,i know he lays lyrical tracks,
And we are the bars,life is the beat,so you gotta ride it with style,
But so often we struggle and fight with the beat,he just writes shit and smiles,
Thinking he's got some hot rhymes,but he makes a mistake,
Forgets these bars they got minds,but there is a way out of this state,
Now the rhymes may be stunning and heat,but it's not a hot track,
Unless the bars are one with the beat,but once you got that,
A harmony between the rhymes and the beat,between life and the living,
Now go re-read the line and repeat,where you see a mic,I see a vision.