I’ve been diggin in the crates ever since I was living in space
Before the rat race before monkeys had human traits
I mastered numerology and big bang theology
Performed lobotomies with telekinetic psychology
Invented the mic so could start blessing it
Chin-checking kids to make my point like an impressionist
Many men have tried to shake us
But I twist mic cords into double helixes to show you what I’m made of
Buckle knees like leg braces
Cast a spell of instrumentalness on of any m-c’s that hate us
So you can try on leave you without a shoulder to cry on
From now to infinity let icons be bygones
I firebomb ghostly notes haunt this
I tried threats, but moved on to a promise
I stomp s**t with or without an accomplice and
Run the gauntlet with whoever that wants this
put a kink in the backbones of clones with microphones
And never satisfy my rhyme jonz
Spray in bright day over what you might say
My blood type’s krylon technicolor type a
On highways, write with road rage
Pages of wind in cages of tin that bounce all around
Surround sound devouring the scene
Subliminal gangrene paintings over all the same-thing-
Sing-song karaoke bull s**t
Break bones verbally with sticks-and-stone tactics
Fourth dimention combat convention
Write rhymes at ease while the track stands at attention
Meant to put you away with a pencil pistol
Official sixteen-line the rhyme missile
While you risk your all I pick out all your flaws
Spttin raw blah blah blah you can say you saw
Its high voltage
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