fuck a title, my shits numbered from now on.

some people question, always assumin, just guessin
as to why I throw down - intense as agression//
the answer is simple, let me break it down for you mentaly
corrupted as pencil be, electric paper and imagerey//
classic lines like "split spines" and "ill cats"
are played out like "old wines" and "wiffle bats"//

Enough! of that shit, down to the real deep EmCee
it's unknown the state in which Mentalz cranium be//
Tainted, could be painted, calm like the walls
true like the sun, or sparse as blank halls//
Indifferant like air, always aware of whats their
or agressive like rage, uncaged with deep stare//

My electric condition is uneccessary, the new mission's not simple-
quite the contrary, the plans have been shifted, sifted like sand
like the ancient clocks back when the romans had land//
Lycrical feats must contenue to grow, expand past the obvious
remain with the flow, toe-to-toe lets you know, right where you stand
be it undefeated or crushed by the palm of some hand//
whateva the outcome, just remember (its just text)
so contenue to grow, dont be afraid ta just flex//

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Blow It - Topical