Your imagination is strictly restricted
Inflicted pains in your brain got you addicted
Illusions you caused with the picture you depicted
Truth was hidden your downfall I predicted
The truth was my rhymes got you addicted
Tried to mimic me but your philosophy was contradicted
Hypocritical writing but your only deceiving your self
Over powered by ignorance put blind by wealth
Money doesn’t cure phoney n homey watch your health
Not physical but mental because this shit is serious
School ain’t never taught you, you remain delirious
Conceited bastard flaunting non-existence
You need protection from my consistence
You need mental assistance, can’t weaken through my resistance
You need to be imprisoned for your feebleness too
Burn you with the flame of forgery and make a fool of you
You made a mistake, now the mistake is you
Ignoramus son of a bitch, son of a shameful bitch
I’ll step on you with the shoe of prominence
And bury you with my shovel of eminence
You conceited bastard!

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