Driving around the turn-pyke one day, I thought of this... lol...
Check it...

hey yo the skill is so tremendous, as I enter with a full tank and new engine, back to venture in a road that’s filled with dangers//
once again with the graphic, rap tactics, entering the verbal traffic//
were not everyone can drive, seen’em crash to many times, when they fuck up in rhymes//
shit I got so many visions, of crash collisions, like if they turn the ignition, to commit suicide missions, they got no view of precision//
It’s all tragic, too much havoc, in this road of verbal static, killing field’s a fucking addict, taking stick or automatic, learn your way around this traffic…

Me, I’m rubber burning, fast turning, car swerving, doing magic shit like Merlin/
steadily gripping the handle, as I be spitting examples, it just a simple sample…
of my mental capability, my verbal creativity, you feeling me, you seeing this//
if not then quick lift up your eyelids, I’m legit I got my license, riding smooth loud or in silence, passing thousands in the mileage//
but avoiding hot-pursuit, even though the couldn’t catch me up in any fucking route, turning noisy sirens into mute…

Peep the Metaphor, shit is clearer than glass, rarely ever heard before dawg the ink is the gas//
peep the rhyme, the motor is my mind, and miles are the page lines//
follow my plan? The steering wheel is my hand, that navigates through rugged land//
and the roads and highways, are paper upon where-I-lay, my fast and furious rhyme-spray…

Peace