ill keep the blood rushin to ya head, wit violent concushions\
uprupting dreams that are obscene after you spit at me\
you cant see me lyrically , let alone physically\
and spiritaully who ever you worship cant even defeat me\
yo lemme get this dick straight, and pound this cake\
commin at me , its lyrical death , enjoy ya fate\
sayin you fired up , shit lemme douse that fire\
cripple ya style and then make you retire\
the way im spittin make these niggas sick\
got them snappin at me , plus they on my dick\
cant feel me, cuz they pussies to big\
heres a shovel , theirs a lot , and a grave to dig\
my metaphores are off the hook , and are considered vicoius\
so stop pissen shit without lyricall precision\
cause listen ill leave your body stained in red crimson\
physically im beyond your intellect\
my shit hits direct wit styles that are in-ept\
what kinda name is maximus lemme explain\
its represents the geniods in your brain that makes you insane\
stands for termanology beyond your game\
maximus stand for the EPITIMY of putting you to shame\
so pay the piper peter and pack ya shit and leave\
and watch a true lyricist make these cats greive\