(THAT DIDN'T RHYME) ... my tactic's sublime... every practical line is practiced, design is mapped between lapses of time...

So fuck lies, I've heard em' all... not ready for more...
I'm the tugboat, steady the core, forever...
exploring the endeavor of war... trying to brush up on the practice...
I'm even strenuous through muscle relaxants, made the hustle a passage
of my life style. Figured a way to trigger my prey...
The small ones have fallen, the image of them is much bigger today...
I denounce them all though, they call me
I'm not ready for that... they front, they can get in the back.
Because I am the emblem... the aesthetics of rap...
Fix me up; need no medics for that...
place the head on the wall... then smash it to pieces with a medicine ball...
Pretty menacing, y'all... put a net up... cause the thread's been mauled...
Over the line, playing tennis and all...
Executing wit' swiftness... yes, swiftness... so, he's the fucking quickest...
let's get up to business... snuffing bitches...
Whoever acts tough can witness...
the skull indent from the knuckle imprints... ha... (why's he acting bad for?)
*I don't know, dear*...
smh... that was so queer...
Any complaints for my verse? it can go here...
Cause I got a drive for it, and I don't steer...
Just a cold beer... or a lager, I just don't care!
(THAT DIDN'T RHYME) ... my tactic's sublime...
every practical line is practiced, design is mapped between lapses of time...
I just... think of a line, and then this ink will just find
a solitude in the recesses of thought for me to speak this shit...
Ahhh....