check it....

i guessed im made for canible's, i posses seducing flesh//
they wanna eat my brain and veins, cuz i keep my style fresh//
open up your mind help form this envisage, but dont envy rage//
i write rymes on an endless page, u cant hang when i really engage//
formulating thoughts with such potent potions, my words mixed with emotions//
mutating these plots into great commotions, bein social-path holds my devotion//
these skills are planted on farms to be harvested, and sold for prophit//
grown while consuming knowledge enlightend greatly, next hip-hop prophet//
cant top it even if you got a ladder jump off on top, cuz you posses no hip-hop//
my rymes are each drip-drop of rain you actually sit back and listen too//
the concept of this context is deep and that symbol you might be missen fool//