How Many - Killah Priest

My mind designed like a Mayan pyramid

When you climb up the steps you could get where the emerald is I left witnesses for those who didn’t believe

Show the depths of sentences, y’all forbidden to leave

Alphabets become images you listen and see

How to breath other lyricist who breathe 3-D

Trapped in each bar gets deep with the God

Like the 5 Pillars that they teach at the Mosque

Trying to define killing you seek a mirage

Terrified thriller have you reach in your heart

Priest 'fenna get dark, dark as he can get

Dark as the first nine Pharaohs who ruled Egypt

Dark as the moon casts its shadows across eclipse

Dark as the ladies with the tarots telling your secrets

Dark as the gun barrel right before you squeeze it I enter you mind like a auditorium

Your picture was distorted but I restored your film

Now you see clearer my pen has a lens

Like I’m sitting in the theatre coming back again

Remind you of Rakim but I’m not him

Though we one and the same;

the second coming of Kane

I’m like Kool G Rap put the Uzi in rap

Or KRS-One said «It was cool to be black»

For Slick Rick pronounced that the Ruler was back

Back in the days where gold jewelry fat

Before Wu or Biggie, Nas, Jigga or Fifty

That was new yeti, they ruled the city

On the West-coast it was run by Death Row

'Pac gave Thug Life but I just hug mics

The grip of the Python, the strength of my right palm

Will crush a competitor’s life-form

+How Many+ emcees must I defeat?

+How Many+ rhymes must I show a technique?

+How Many+ metaphors?

+How Many+ letters in all?

+How Many+ times must I show that I am better than y’all?

Rhymes after rhymes, metaphors are lined

Since '84 I recall the times

Left MC’s, inside of morgues and shrines

Weak technique get absorbed like wine

Then I piss 'em back under the trees and vines

This rapper, that rapper, I proved I’m better

Next month I’m 'bout battle Webster

Do you think you can handle my pressure?

The way that my thinking when I play with the ink pen

Is he old or new school?

(Think, I think old school)

Nah I’m in a class by myself

Plus I drop math and I blast like a Stealth

The bars you spit I use for chin-ups

Soon as you lay 'em down I press the bench up Then I start spinning like them nunchucks

Each paragraph is like the Pharaoh in the past

Wide as a dome piece and narrow as the path