my jaded poise of mind frame hangin' crooked.//
spaded choice like a knife blade, slayin', fuck it, jookin'.//
playin' tuck it, pull-it.. cock it, pull-it.. cock it, pull-it..///
drop 'em like broken buckets of red paint, face laced with holes and body swollen.//
this my hobbie, exposin' notions of underlying bull-shit.//
hatred facin' and undermining, hopeless.//
no-this!! the only person with the right to kill is he who's been there before and is still.//
and his skill has elevated past the point of being ill.//
and even needing pills, mind elevation complete now releasing teaching drills.//
preaching defeat at will, no-one can beat or over come this somber wander of thoughts.//
you can wonder, or ponder, but never launder the cost.//
that'll leave you lost, dazed, crazy if you don't give it all you got.//
most just skimmin' off the top, not even near the quality they require.//
I'm this good now, where'll I be when I retire?//
admired, countless people inspired, in all accounts I'm a preacher, tha back-up singers my choir.//
"master" of my "craft" like Canadian Tire.. I spit to ignite, tha rest struggle to put out tha fire.//
tie this industry up so tight, they resistance to my grip's just dire.//
blunt never tire, call me sire, I'm of a higher atire.//
you know I'm a dope writer, rhymer, all tha tymer.//
ballas' try ta-aquire this style, I ain't gonna give it up without fight'n'......

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