Rap Beautician Lyrics & Chords By Edan

Well it's The Rap Beautician, the facts you listen, when I blast through rhythms like a cab through Brooklyn,
Record-button warlord, I'm well-off and witty plus using God's sleeve to wipe the hell off the city
call me elegant, cerebellum swelling 'till my melon's elephant-sized, always got that relevant rhyme,
It's adrenaline time, the cardiac is party-packed; all-hail the silver-dome, chrome like a Pontiac,
Cruiser fusing past, present, future in maneuvers that are unprecedented, to the sun and the crescent,
the great historical puzzles of all time are directly comparable to the struggles inside the mind of the righteous,
I'm on that list with clenched fists, the dentist; but instead of molar pain, it's solar brain,
the rhyme spins once in my presence every twenty-four hours, the steady force of metaphor showers
there's power in my words, 'cause the words be expression, plus expression is a weapon and the weapon is an option
(Oxygen!) we've been given our lungs for breath, so I lace lyrics of fury on top of the drums of death!
Tongue-kissing thunderbolts on Neptune, at the same time sitting on a couch in your living room,
You shouldn't want to fuck with a man of all strategies, your pirate ship flipped by the cannonball atelier
The tornado typhoon, the raw fatal mic uses loops, puddles of Fight Juice is proof
That the clouds need something to drink-- hence evaporation! Reality battles my intense imagination
I'm breeding art, the veins save the bleeding heart, the brain stays in a psychological freezing art,
I need a spark to stay existent in the dark, evil leaving dead bodies on benches at the park,
I generate heat when I set a break-beat to repeat, thanks to Flash and my two techniques
All praises to the Bronx for the elevated Blues music, hip hop is celebrated to the point that you use it
The new blueprint for mass unification is a crew of rap renegades in deep concentration,
I never claimed to be the best at anything I did, but I'm due for elevation 'cause I'm one smart kid!,
So listen to the rhythms, the rhymes I wrote for you; some people don't be liking shit unless it's brand-new,
But lemme tell you something, boy: The Past is full of answers, The Present is a question, and The Future's the direction,
so go explore the history of music and return to, my whackest composition and you'll call that shit a burner!
...So if rapping was graffiti:
I would vandalize the sun so the shadows of my name would manifest on everyone!
...and if rapping was breaking:
I'd do a head-spin for five days, only to suspend myself above ground sideways,
...and if rapping was DJ'ing:
I'd pull the records out the crate, throw the needles in the air, and have them land right at the breaks,
...and if rapping was beat-making:
I'd be a fucking 45, impeach the president with substitution on the flip-side,
So if my competition wants to bring it to my face, I'll knock it out the park and take a piss at home plate and do my dance!
And that's right!