I often don't care when I walk into a scheme of mine... You read a line, n' don't even see until the scheme's redefined.

Fuck it... I got time, might's well spend it..
Might as well swing off the fences, knock a kick to your senses.
N' if you're feeling lucky, don't allow Google to elude you.
I will, put you out of your misery, moving whimsically...
Through every intricate dissing scheme... you kidding? yo, this is mean.
This is seen, by far, as a tactic of killing you, till you bleed.
Till the amount of contusions creates an outer illusion
of you imitating a geyser of Red Kool-Aid, pouring out you, profusely.
You're fucking Goofy. More so than the Mickey guy..
Cornea than the muscles scene in your FREAKING eye. This is why..
I often don't care when I walk into a scheme of mine...
You read a line, n' don't even see until the scheme's redefined.
I paint portraits of naked corpses laying next to stable horses..
in a dim lit room, no clothes myself - to you like, "ain't it gorgeous?"
Isn't it magical? A perverse way of seeing a tragedy
as an upside of living amongst humanity, annually.
I'll make your Grandma knee down, then make her sit on her fanny, b.
Break her like a twig, then take out the rest of your family tree..
You understanding me? Eyes beat red..
I shit bullets and I eat lead.. Suffice to say, I keep fed.
Each thread... is just me, seeing MC's dead.
Shit's appalling. I'm your modern day Timothy Dalton...
figure you'll fault, and I'll be quick to diminish your cauldron...
with a written, assaulting ye, to you're beat into a submission, applauding..
Huh? Yeah, why would you be? Are you that stupid?
Oh wait. I forgot, you think A$ap Rocky's rap music.

A commodity. A bond of lines placed beyond the Gauntlet of minds. They figure Taut is divine. Sorry. I am just dropping in twine. My model's the philosopher's grind of Plato's arch. Archaic, yet...a Brawn, in design.

So reply to this then.
Don't try to pretend you ain't eying this, friend.
you know you've been peeping this shit
To see who you're competing against.
But yeah, King, spit the fire.... engulfing a flame.
Cause the modern world ain't been
the same since the Exalted as came.
It's so like these sociologists try to throw salt on my name
Insulting my reign. I'm Timothy Dalton playing'
James Bond, your brains on the terrain. Gone.
These lames, playing the same song.
Get Jays, like my name's Shawn. And it hasn't changed since then.
This pen? inflicting. melody cues.
The devilish hues of Satan. Using patience to move to you through acoustic statements.
Just patterns on tape - elated to fans.
Like the lighter flames from the stands, as they're waving their hands.
World stage, at the Grand.
It's amazing. Almost like I play in a band.
They just chant my name on command.
Wow. Intelligence speaking for the gentlemen. I'm letting em' peak in...
to see how the puritan works.
They acclaim it as greatness without hearing it first.
Verses. Works of artists that stretch the dawn of time.
A commodity. A bond of lines placed beyond the Gauntlet of minds.
They figure Taut is divine.
Sorry. I am just dropping in twine. My model's
the philosopher's grind of Plato's arch. Archaic, yet...a Brawn, in design.