Uber delicious! I propel musical interest within our generation to an unusual distance.. Hip Hop Is Dead? Oh it isn't? Then who's funeral is this?

I get it, aesthetic fire... burning my soul
the ember, turning to coal... had a yearning from inside me to learn the unknown...
Called it my home, alcoholic, but melodic in tone..
With such an attraction to it, the very thought of it's an erotica zone...
Yeah... crispiness. My interest is, pursuing it's livelihood.
Is it beside me? good. Told your Frodo to come and suck my Elijah Wood...
Uh yeah.... that's a metaphor setting a meta score...
Uber delicious! I propel musical interest within our generation to an unusual distance..
Hip Hop Is Dead? Oh it isn't? Then who's funeral is this?
Lift the veil? See a death-stricken male. Instant FAIL!
Yeah, what that means is, we're subject to image...
Enough gimmicks in the industry to push the publishers limits.
I summoned the physics of punishing humbling critiques who run with this, cynic-
ism, going through it.... their so influenced, hearing the Omen's movements...
Yeah, roll with it. Go with it. Have fun while you're at it.
If you look inside of the box, instead of out if it, you'll find this dramatic.
When in actuality? It's kind of just tragic.
If I were to relate this to owning a home, I'd say it's the old virgin, still inside of his attic.
Sorry, I'm just a rhyming fanatic... when I think about the consequence
of what we sacrifice? to our side of the deal.. it's no wonder we seek out that kind of appeal..
Trouble finding what's real... the greatest minds are concealed
inside of a box, trying to feel inside of it still, deciding it's why
We're puppets.. don't look much deeper than that rabbit hole.
But I'm in travel mode, straddled to luggage, baby. I have to go.
Yeah.... keep jotting down', deep, plotted sound...
deep conscious, propelling your feet to leap off the ground...