No Degrees

[Intro: Rodan]
Niggas ain’t got no degrees out here. Let me drop it on ‘em, something for the filthy masses

[Verse 1: Rodan]
I-95, three exits outside Baltimore
Formulating southbound, 2003 Altima
Faulty laws, smoking herbivores sparking kush, symbol-
-isms like Moses holding counsel with the burning bush
We celebrate and push back wigs like a mush slap
For a fact, if you misunderstood that, you shouldn’t rap
Contaminating cultures like a hepatitis lab rat
The rap trap awaken resting gods from a cat nap
Unlucky, running amok, we’re risky like gambling in
Biloxi, Mississippi. Your candle style burning out
Quickly like a hippy dropping acid, having bad flashbacks
From 1960, third sight fifty-fifty, enlightened
Shelter, wander like a gypsy over podiums, birds-eye
View of my foundation shining like linoleum
You reminding me of a cartoon character on Nickelodeon, verbs
Interrupt your flow like bloodstreams with too much sodium. You don’t
Know me, dun. Behold the only holy golden, son
Solar combustion, ninety-three decimeters for every square ton
Rodan the rare one, bust caps and shoot the fair one
Molest the bassline, verbally sodomize the snare drum
Intrinsic academic, advanced intelligence emancipating
Jamestown settlements, embezzlement for embetterment
120 almanacs forecast criminal elements unpre-
-dicted by weathermen. Former fight-or-flight veteran never
Sleeping, always creeping, more DL then David Letterman

[Hook: Rodan]
Dope shit a lot of niggas ain’t got. I think
Not, nigga. You ain’t hot, you got no degrees
Lyric skills the common emcee forgot. I think
Not, nigga. You ain’t hot, you got no degrees
The dope shit a lot of niggas ain’t got. I think
Not, nigga. You ain’t hot, you got no degrees
Lyric skills the common emcee forgot. I think
Not, nigga. You ain’t hot, yo

[Verse 2: Rodan]
Yo, yo
Sustain to maintain and remain on the physical plane like
A winged sphinx or platinum links on my command chain
Retain a law degree more nutritious then Nutri-Grain, commence
To bless this track like Jesus on the commuter train
Transduce the brain fluid, forming water to wine, justice from
Celsius, penalties frozen at the border line
Record a rhyme, we’re poured a round, supporting our projects
Planetary systems, universal flying objects
Fully loaded pockets blow the spot like bottle rockets
The seed niggas speaking leave sweet niggas bleeding chakras
Spark electric sockets, magnetic catalyst. You not
A battle risk. Silent but deadly like the shadow fist
You wanna grapple this? Scope the spot from a block away
Hideouts in Far Rockaway, smoke some pot and cops today
Deadly shotgun spray, blaring, sonic shock ray
Born on the dot, Asiatic clock say, “Broker’s fee, stop pay”
Real live, shorty rise organized militia, lost-found
Re-enlister, fatal attract like Amy Fisher. Rodan
Talon-kiss ya, dismiss your lonely lovers quarrel tomorrow
Seeds built castles on Mt. Kilimanjaro. Days of
Sorrow, pack the steel, go to war up north in New York
Fly bitches cling on/Klingon like Mr. Worf, four and
Fives in my source, conductive heat like hot templates
Flavor like blend tapes, deep like jailhouse inmates, slash
Codefendant, independent rhyme syndicate, wise
Infinite, we style for masses and savage con descendants, and
Insignificant mannequins blown out like Tom Flanagan
Run with the creatures of the night like Laura Branigan
Number Seven news van, is that Rodan again?

[Hook: Rodan]
Dope shit a lot of niggas ain’t got. I think
Not, nigga. You ain’t hot, you got no degrees
Lyric skills the common emcee forgot. I think
Not, nigga. You ain’t hot, you got no degrees
The dope shit a lot of niggas ain’t got. I think
Not, nigga. You ain’t hot, you got no degrees
Lyric skills the common emcee forgot. I think
Not, nigga. You ain’t hot, yo (Aw shit)

[Verse 3: Rodan]
Stay on
Key like harmonicas, the prehistoric chronicler
Kosher like Hanukah, wearing niggas out like a yarmulke. You ain’t
Got no degrees like a broken thermometer, stellar
Astronomica, uncommon phenomena, chronometer
Monitor, recorded biography, your cornball
Video, wack-ass choreography, photograph
Slow-mo flash, picture-perfect analyst, handle this
More knowledge than a game show panelist, sample this
Deposit wack lyrics in a bank of shit
Rapping Al Yankovic getting pimped like a stanking bitch
Roll like tanks and shit, shoot jewels from a slingshot
Air formations spanking with drool, cypher divine play the wing spot

[Hook: Rodan]
Dope shit a lot of niggas ain’t got. I think
Not, nigga. You ain’t hot, you got no degrees
Lyric skills the common emcee forgot. I think
Not, nigga. You ain’t hot, you got no degrees
The dope shit a lot of niggas ain’t got. I think
Not, nigga. You ain’t hot, you got no degrees
Lyric skills the common emcee forgot. I think
Not, nigga. You ain’t hot, yo (Nope)