No Snakes Alive (Take Me to Your Leader Version) King Geedorah (Ft. MF Grimm & Rodan)
"No Snakes Alive (Take Me to Your Leader Version)" by King Geedorah (Ft. MF Grimm & Rodan) is a #HipHop track from 2003. The lyrics explore themes of authenticity, struggle against deception, and resilience in the face of adversity. Unique elements include intricate wordplay and layered beats, contributing to its underground appeal. The song reflects a strong cultural impact within alternative hip-hop circles.
[Intro: Sample from Season 1 Episode 7 of Fist of the North Star (1984-1987) - “Villains! Shall We Have A Countdown to Death?”]
“Hahahahahaha!”
[Verse 1: King Geedorah]
Geedorah has arrived, you guys could take five
By the time it’s over, no snakes alive
Take the dive, I’m telling you, you’re better off
Then up against the flow that make her take her sweater off
From the setoff, when it came to scripts, he could hardly brag
It’s the result of concentration and lollygag
I said, “Yeah right.” He pulled a mic out a snotty rag
Was sealed up air-tight, and wrapped up in a body bag
Get an advance and catch chance writer’s block
After spending the first and last penny, my own worst enemy
Tell me if I’m OD and usual flow
And made deals with these cats who keep sending dough, so
The Three-Headed set it, never get busted
He’s a man of his word who’s not to be trusted
Beats encrypted, multi-faceted, encrusted
Sweaty palm, keep mic rusted
*Sort of mellow type of fellow
Who sometimes spaz on wife like Othello
Hell no. He won’t use words like Illuminati
Or Gotti or shotty, he might use karate
Azar the Gaza caught cut, I’ll ask why
A mask with the ball-style caps saying, “That’s fly”
Exact dough ‘til it stack high
White hoe, black guy, the rap game black eye
“Hahahahahaha!”
[Verse 1: King Geedorah]
Geedorah has arrived, you guys could take five
By the time it’s over, no snakes alive
Take the dive, I’m telling you, you’re better off
Then up against the flow that make her take her sweater off
From the setoff, when it came to scripts, he could hardly brag
It’s the result of concentration and lollygag
I said, “Yeah right.” He pulled a mic out a snotty rag
Was sealed up air-tight, and wrapped up in a body bag
Get an advance and catch chance writer’s block
After spending the first and last penny, my own worst enemy
Tell me if I’m OD and usual flow
And made deals with these cats who keep sending dough, so
The Three-Headed set it, never get busted
He’s a man of his word who’s not to be trusted
Beats encrypted, multi-faceted, encrusted
Sweaty palm, keep mic rusted
*Sort of mellow type of fellow
Who sometimes spaz on wife like Othello
Hell no. He won’t use words like Illuminati
Or Gotti or shotty, he might use karate
Azar the Gaza caught cut, I’ll ask why
A mask with the ball-style caps saying, “That’s fly”
Exact dough ‘til it stack high
White hoe, black guy, the rap game black eye
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