Come One Come All - Visionaries

Come one, come all

To the Visionary hall

I would like to

Cordially invite you

The night is young

Might you

Or shall I say, might we

Develop a relationship rightly

Rhettmatic will be our sound provider

Strike a match to burn, we hold the mic tighter

In light of the situation we got five emcees

Of varying degrees and faculties

Bring in the scratch, please

Just learn from us

A combustible bus of trust

The inner analysis of us

Unearthing palaces of dust

I’m balancing with every gust of air

Customers' Medicare

Medical Musketeer with the musket there

The son with the mussed up hair

Declares that every nowhere

Shall know everywhere

My stocks are like sun colored blocks

Brightest crayon in the box

And the coldest beer in the fridge

The oldest pier in the bridge

I told the dear it was a privilege

Just to be in tune

While the world’s throwing darts at balloons

I’m stuck in the dunes

And your platoon

You’re an asshole

You’re a hassle

I’m master, fully astral

Hands up

This is a shakedown

To take down

The rest of you non-believing emcees

Envious

Of the way I adjust

With a little bit of rage

And rush to the middle of the stage

And bust like TNT

Must you believe it was started in a mid

When it was being done to the left of the myriad

Eons ago

And beyond the flow

We had continuity

And fluidity

Pure stupidity

Has gotten some born on this coastal region

Believing no ingenuity would be this close to home

The truth’ll be told through this microphone

Behold a time when a fellowship of rhymes

It beginning in the ninety-nine

Furthest surface from the underside tide with the ride

Come one, come all

To the Visionary hall

Ray Parker Jr. calls me when he needs a little bit of Ghostbusting

West Coast hustling

Every letter is a little lighter

Lighting all you bent up biters

Bitter firefighters

Our girls are tighter

My crew is flame retardant

Your game’s retarded

My name is guarded and darted at

And I’m a part of that

California carnival

Elephantiasis of the audible

Innervating intervals

My tabernacle

Will tackle your tobacco

Even my echoes are art deco

All of my adlibs

Are louder than the speakers at your crib