I Shine like Diamonds w/ every Chronicle-Wrote/
My poetic content is tha Philosophers-Stone/
Weild the power to turn Charcoal-to-Gold/
Don’t make Me chew up n Swallow All of These Cats/
IT’s worse Than Alpha Battling Prodigals-Ass/
W/ More Lines Than advanced Geometry-Class/
more lines Than continental Geography-maps/
MORE Lines Than linear Trigonometry-Graphs/
U can’t survive my style w/ out an Oxygen-Mask/
I Drink Hydrochloric Acid stolen from Biology-Labs/
Try seein me n get blinded by an Optical-Flash/
WALKIN In My SHOEs, U prolly fall-o- ya-Ass/
Spit IT Loud enough to make Industry Towers-Collapse/
On a Conquest TO Kill All The Cowards-Of-Rap/
External power sources fuel my Flows-like-A-Engine/
Smokin-n-Spittin, till it Opens-Dimensons/
Black Out in tha night Causein Solar-Eclipses/
Spit a hundred bars ‘fore U Claim U know-of-tha-Sickest/
Or Get thrown in a cage full of Boaconstricters/
Yours shit’s synthetic Like a Lesbian’s-Dick/
U can’t see me like a skin cell on tha head-of-a-pen/
I Was Born Out Tha Womb W/ An Axe-In-My-Hand/
Big Enough TO Slash Land Masses-In-Half/
Born in Human Form, W/ Tha Mark OF Thorns/
Halos-N-horns, commin to battle in tha Ageless-War/
Destined To Etch this Lyricists name-in-Gold/
Run Through Ya Whole Clique like Open-Doors/
My Metaphors Strike Harder Than Odin’s-Sword/
N get Deeper Than crinoids on tha Ocean’- Floor/
By Tha time I get signed, I’ll be A Catholic-preist/
That a Roast A Vampire, to a pile of Ashes-n-teeth/
No Chance-against-me, don’t Stand-against-me/
U need land armies, w/ a hundred Tanks-against-me/
Can’t survive tha Wars, I’m Wagin-on-Rhythms
I’ll smoke everythin on tha physical Plain-OF-Existence/
Till Tha world becomes a lifeless Chaos-Dimension/
Wear Garlic, N Burn impressions of a Cross-in-ya-face/
Bite My Shit, N I stab U in tha Heart-W/-a-Steak/
tryin Rhyme-w- tha-great, ‘n recive an Optical-Blank/
In ya Mental, When Rhymes-Surround-my-mind/
I Spit it faster than the speeds of light-n-sound-combined/
Bust shots at rappers to knock that chips-off-they-shoulders/
Takiein This punch a be like getting hit-w/-a-Boulder/
Like Ya Frame Catchin’ Six-From-a-Toaster/
Keep Rhymein; Till My Spit forms Rivers-n-Oceans/
My Neurons Shake Richter scales from mental Explosions/
Get Ya mind Possessed from my Written hypnosis/
Veteran Spitter, I’m Destined For Rippin/
Killin Anything That steps in My Peripheral Vision/
My IQ so high That It Can’t be Measured In Digits/
I’m So High I could wreck in a seven forty seven Collision/
Most RAPPERS Just Can’t Fuck-W/-a-Lyracist/
W/ rhymes more intricate than tha Structure-of-Pyramids/
Battle tha Verbal God, n get Punished like Heretics/

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