Give you parrots the cold... shoulder, wanna copy my talent? The trapeze artist so skillfully concocting the balance... I mean it's awkward, at how the kids come at me when they thought they can challenge... A beast who slaughters so regularly, a crew mops up his palace...

Time to yell, rhymes expel the kind of heat...
That Satan couldn't handle in the furnace room, while he tried to sleep...
I mean, venomous rage when this pen's engaged...
penetration... his head's aching from all the fucked up medication...
They'd never face em... why the fuck would they?
Battle in hell... a pressure gauge of talent that's shattering wells...
From a different planet, n' I must say that Saturn's swell..
I've had it, the smell ...of defeat in the cavern dwells..
I got an ego that needs to be popped, repeatedly... rock...
your drive, I'm never parked, so why the fuck would I be in a lot?
His stream of talent? well, it seems like a-lot...
A genius, thought to be the next incarnation of Einstein with every line rhymed...
It's my time, don't get clocked out...
Fucking naked... baring my soul, it's apparent, I swallow arrogance whole...
Give you parrots the cold... shoulder, wanna copy my talent?
The trapeze artist so skillfully concocting the balance...
I mean it's awkward, at how the kids come at me when they thought they can challenge...
A beast who slaughters so regularly, a crew mops up his palace...
Got a popular prowess...
Giving you notice, I'm James Holmes
after the Aurora Theater, got punchlines rigged with explosives...
I'm the one they commonly followed... leaving dominance and any
common sense hollowed... shit, it's almost like Rocky/Apollo...
The underdog... that's too cocky to swallow...
No chance... I slow dance with these tempos..My Chemical Romance
with the pencil...
His whole plans are suspenseful... minus the intricacy
of his patterns... it's hard to adjust when he gives you a marginal thrust...
bars will get crushed under arms, make em' harder to touch...
N' after it's done? He sits back n' smokes a cigar from the rush...

No screen capture, I'm the Green Lantern... Weaving bombs in a neat pattern. You geeks battling on the beat can just keep chattering...

Seeping deep in the cut... I ain't happy till the speakers are up..
Optimus Prime, rocking em' lines, and they're diesel as fuck...
So all were missing is Michael Bay, n' all them explosions...
No CGI, all reality in plausible motion...
No screen capture, I'm the Green Lantern...
Weaving bombs in a neat pattern.
You geeks battling on the beat can just keep chattering...
A controversial slang... sit or play up, I gotta lay up like Kirko Bangz...
Nothing but net that will blow your brain out like Kurt Cobain's...
Sitting on the La' La' La', with my pilot on Purple Planes...
While they're trying to figure me out...
It's not like I keep triggers...
No peace, got beats if I wanna ruin you weak niggas...
If you're not thinking big enough, you're simply not in my league...
Got liquid metal pumping through my I.V
Thai' weed... make my fucking eyes Chinese...
Cop like 5g's... then it's off to work..
dropping purp... around the clock, like an Office clerk...
This is me... freaking trees like I'm in a forest...
The kid's enormous with pitching, no Trouble With The Curve here...
Win decks, make em' words clear...
I got my herd here... Lions, we preserve fear... striking it in your colony...
No association with twitter, I make em' follow me...
Head Honcho, Apollo Creed fighting Rocky, get dropped with ease...
Second nature, I breathe through the essence...
each key as its weaving a sentence, through the fabric of time...
My body of work, the anatomy lines
parallel to my height, I'm on my gravity grind...
No space boots... Andy Kaufman, Man on the Moon...
out of this world, cause your planet some doom...
No speaking in tone, I reach in your zone like the defense linemen...
When I get to rhyming... it's best that you step behind, and...
Peep game. That chip on your shoulder? Is just a weak grain...
Running online shit, like Anonymous, I don't need names...

the bullets move in rhythm... Every one released is like riding a tempo... The Architect lives inside of my mental... the kind of potential I create for each line is suspenseful... enough to give the philosophical meaning of Violence? a pencil...

I leave the streets for good... but I'm still in the rap...
The villain is back... look at the life go, as he's killing the track...
I'm the filter for what these syllables lack...
I grill em' n' flat- en' the foundation they were building, for that?
I sit back and watch the pillars collapse...
Trust me... I had love for the game, but my comfort's changed...
now it's something deranged... lost souls, giving up in exchange...
They wallow and bask in all of it, when I'm calling it trash...
History in the making for the future, when they follow the past...
This is Apollo, at last... beaten the Russian he lost to...
in spirit... those who want the drive? They can suck the exhaust fumes
from out the back of the whip until the revving causes the axle
to shift... tell the Monestary Monk... I am a master at this...
And his ass don't exist... I don't look calm...
because I've made it be... now they're relating me to the story, like A&E...
Ha... they're not ready for the calibur, X...
Smash their watermelon in Gallagher sweats...
A style so complex... the rubric for it's too enormous
to read... formative keys performed into mental ornament themes...
From Norman's debris... blood on his orange little sleeves
As he's pulling those showers drapes back with a knife in his hand...
Fuck it... that's right with the plan...
Ecstasy tablets, broken Vicodin's jammed
Inside of his van's glove compartment, trying to cram the last of it
inside of his damn... mouth, while he's hiding it and...
Idling in a Idaho am....
-- bulance drive way, at 5 A.... M...
on Friday... man... that's the shit that I'm on...
Get clocked out... every script's an alarm... putting em' in visual harm...
Illustrating the model...
Carried by Aristotle... once the hear the throttle gears? the motto's clear...
E Mano mirrors, Pablo...
C'mon, bro, share the taco...
Ha... yeah, I'm a feisty fiesta...
These kids are clowns, they live the life of a Jester...
And fuck around with children, like a Molester...
So what gives em' the right to contest ta'... rifle I pressed on
the side of your temple?
Guy, I was gentle... plus, the bullets move in rhythm...
Every one released is like riding a tempo...
The Architect lives inside of my mental...
the kind of potential I create for each line is suspenseful...
enough to give the philosophical meaning of Violence? a pencil...
wow... now think about that for a sec...
the illustration of graphics perfected by a tactical weapon
of rapping perception...
cats who lack the connection
to be components of concept... go for the complex schemes
that they use without knowing the context...
It's like I'm holding the objects of reality to control your subconscious...
And there's nothing people can do until I've seeped in my groove...
Yeah, I'm speaking to you...
*points*
Yeah. YOU!
The guy glancing at his screen right now with a blank stare...
in his rank chair thinking "Now, what gives em' the right to say the shit that he likes?"
Here is some advice: I don't give a shit...
I scribble this off of the top in intervals, limitless...
-ly ... n' if you agree with what you're seeing, friend?
Take that car of yours and go over the median...