Mars On Life - Clear Soul Forces

Inhale, exhale

Heartbeat (what, what?)

Trunked up feeling knocking in your speakers

Fab Five, Fab Five

Raise up your hands

Get them higher

I knew you niggas wouldn’t understand it

I took a leap of faith

And broke the record once I landed

The standards being standards

So stand up

I flip words, they handstand (stands up)

Chiroprac-rapping hip-hop is back-cracking

We re-align your spine when we rhyme

I been sitting on the outside

Looking in the room, was knocking on the door

Was there, porter wouldn’t let me through

That’s why I’m locked in this recording booth

That holds the keys to my future

Like a visit to the oracle

Blue vinyl fight to your stereo

Fab Five Wolverines is on the radio

J.Larose, Chris Web is on the radio

Howard King, Ray Jacks on the radio

Work no headphones without Beats

Writing relief, stress on my mental

Like (?), think

I’m a living legend

With a rhyme fetish

Rap on a (?) genetics

And (?) finetics

The new veteran represent

Microphone atletics aesthetics

The first of my kind

Peep (?) of Prime, the pistol

Another accidental blast again

I walk away from an accident dragging like two victims

Me and my rapper friends like pathogens

Moving through your immune system

Abuse rhythm and shed light like two prysms

For starters, I’m crushing rapper’s jawns

With a (?)

That snaps back I’m Henry Rowengartner

A cyborg with some nice form

In an ice storm, cold as fuck

Knock you off your bicycle with an icicle

You don’t want to get into it

(?) assassin after the cyber-initiative

Would you die for your penmanship

Picture this, I’m Jason Bourne

Disarming rappers in front of a liquor store

Putting them in a figure four

Fantastic, fucking elaborate

Prepping to do a backspin

Put this verse in a (?)

Split the mic like a fraction

I’m in a semi-auto (?)

Skimming through black (?)

Rewind, nigga fuck your comment

Put a comma, before I get at your momma

While penetrating the standard

(?) that’s engulfing the local area

Witnessing this hysteria

Hot, my pupils blood shy

With puffy eyelids caughing up blood

(?) that’s how I get when I’m hostile

So keep the (?)

I’m randy (?) as mister Macho

You follow like an apostle

One hundred cadavers hollow

This funkier than a (?)

Making your body rock

When the beats bang

That makes the pebbles level

With the pavement pop

Sawed off pump (?)

Slapping and crack your neck bone

Hating we don’t condone

We’re just?

gigantic raps

Tapping that bubble on her back