drop it like its hot...

theres a million and one ways, through means of communication/
but few can form creation/
through the process of elimination/
the mic, the universal instrument of compassion/
its styles quick and illusive, silky smooth with no abrasions/
a mic to the emcee, is like a wand to its wizard/
wether your flowin to the bee's, or straight up "sippin on that sizzur"/
with its constant perception, of the way things evolve/
it can decipher deception, things the brightest mind could never solve/
i hold the mic menacingly, daring all opposition/
its mystic ways beckon me, my source of contradiction/
while im wishin'/
to lyrically decease these fake ass niggas/
i'll serially dice you, into 4 by 5 inch figures/
my thoughts configure/
different ways to control the absent minded/
i only speak whats spoken, dont get me wrong, it aint rewinded/
bitch i was still in the cradle, when i learned my long division/
with lyrical incisions/
i perform with surgical precision/

need sum feedback...peace....

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"...from the first to the last of it..."