I’m spittin’ off the top of my head like my mouth was misplaced,
Then sealin’ my words with ink so they’ll never be erased,
Forced to deal with hecklers who try to make my time waste,
I wan’na build secret monuments - ones that can’t be defaced.

But what’s the point of a shrine if it isn’t easily detected,
Becomes useless like a rhyme when the style’s not perfected,
So figuratively it’d be a crime to let my talent go neglected,
So I’m returning at this time to prove I’ve been selected.

I’m showing that my styles are legion and I can rip them all,
Ever growing - a brilliant collegian forever leading my cabal,
Like Boeing causing space deletion inside the minds of y’all,
All knowing - that’s God’s region but I’d claim it with alcohol.

I weave words like tapestries - you can refute that if you like,
Tap your fingers on your knee whenever I first take the mike,
Is there any uncertainty about my increasing the Fahrenheit,
Trees would still bow to me as I journey cloaked with light.

Hidden puzzles abound in my prose that you’ll never discern,
Distracted by the mere words it’s impossible for you to learn,
There’s much more white space - shouldn’t that be a concern,
As told I’m wasting time - ironic - so abruptly I adjourn.

__________________
Personal Testament 3 (100 Bars)
Befuddlement
Broken Metamorphosis
Cud

uppin

__________________
Personal Testament 3 (100 Bars)
Befuddlement
Broken Metamorphosis
Cud