I’m back in the mix with a tactical twist, every rapper get clipped like a classical flick. You practical kids couldn’t fathom the risk if you swam in the mind of a man with a gift. I’m casually sick with a hazardous wit, I could shatter your clique with a snap of the wrist. You rap like a fizz in a battery switch, I adapt and eclipse every pattern you spit. I’m laughin’ at half of you passionate actors who act like you masters but lackin’ the scripts. I’m packin’ a manuscript packed with a labyrinth mapped for the travelers trapped in the abyss. You flashin’ a stack like you actually rich, but your pockets got lint that answer in pitch. Your balance is tragic, you dancin’ with debt, I could balance a check on the back of your neck. I don’t gotta battle, my message is grim, my opponents dissolve when they step in my wind. You fumble your bars like a package that’s bent, I be crushin’ your squad like a pathogen spread. You hype up your rhymes that was average at best, I could scribble my worst and dismantle your pen. You lost in the current, I channel the depth, I’m the last one to breathe in a planet of dread. You ain’t in my lane, you a traffic cone, Actin’ bold but lackin’ control. I could send a tap through your phones, And have your ego cracked and corrode. I’m hazardous, every passage I craft is a dagger-tip slashed in the fabric of rap. I’m massive, travelin’ past where the planets is, spinnin’ through rings like a javelin snapped. You fakin’ the posture, your balance is bad, you would get knocked on your ass if I challenged your path. You post in the dark for some status and laughs, then wake up depressed with a panic attack. You couldn’t keep up with a trendsetter’s map, and just follow the route where the amateurs at. You wander in circles, I travel in math, every angle I take is a calculus class. You lackin’ the traction, I handle the task like a veteran strapped with a tactical plan. You rappers is fast food, I laugh at your brand, every plate that I drop got ‘em gaggin’ real fast. I don’t gotta rap about money and women, I rap like the money and women are givens. You rap like a dummy that stumbled in business and signed on the line for a budgeted prison. Your contract is tragic, you stuck in a limit, your masters ain’t yours, you just bluffin’ with gimmicks. You thought you was poppin’ ‘til everyone listened and realized your flow got the function of crickets. You rap like you pay for your likes in a bundle. You rap like a lamp that stay stuck in a tunnel. You rap like nerd who’s nicknamed Micklovin. You rap like a chef who ain’t touchin’ an oven. I be crashin’ your past like a paradox, pairin’ plots, tearin’ through the air like an arrow shot. You ain’t ever been a threat, you just scared a lot, talkin’ like you bearin’ arms when you fear of shots. All your props flop like you’re carrot top, You’re still at home doin’ chores, while you’re pushing your parents mop I be in the sky like a seraphim, para-shot, lookin’ down laughin’ like “where did they bury the ops?” I don’t even rap, I just travel through sentences, map out the premises and fracture the nemesis. Every new track is a natural genesis, stack up the evidence, crackin’ your measurements. You couldn’t fathom my accurate emphasis, every line laced like a jay with acid in it. I am the mathematician of the penmanship, everything snapped like a magnet in premises. I been in the trenches, the dark and abyss, where the myths of legends are carved in the bricks. You rap like you special but hardly exist, every step that you take is a comedy skit. Your logic is missin’, you talkin’ for clicks, but you stutter the second you caught in the mix. You claim that you fire but talkin’ in mist, that’s just gas that’ll vanish when oxygen hits. I body a beat like an octopus grip, I got too many arms when I spar with the script. You copy and paste, I demolish the print, I’m the one that you study to polish your hits. You outta your league, I’m a monument’s bricks, every word that I carve got ‘em watchin’ it lift. You rappers is slow, it’s astonishing this many people still think you a dominant pick. I could whisper flows softer than cotton and still make your audience switch. You could scream bars ‘til your throat turn to gravel and still wouldn’t amount to shit. I just keep stackin’ these books in my palace while y’all out here lost in a ditch. I don’t gotta follow a trend or a meme, I just wait ‘til they follow my lead.
