(“yikkity-yak…”) Yeah… Line time. YAK. (“leggo…”) (“boom bap…”) Yikkity-yak back on dis lyrical vibraphone Daddy home, black belt breath control inside the microphone Dojo flow, sensei swing swords through the metronome Mastah Splintah wisdom while these weaklings type from sheltered homes Secret ooze drippin out the sewer where the legends grow Favorite ninja turtle energy, radical and spectral Other MCs invisible whenever Yak in festival mode Same vicinity? Impossible. Your satellites too low Lyrically approximately galaxies behind the beam I architect dimensions with the penmanship and gravity Balance G, poetically connect these thoughts masterfully Strong-arm syllables together like mythology and alchemy Easy come, easy go, take a dab then bump The Dome Smoke circle spin around the room like ancient runestones Geometry the angle gotta strike precise or leave it lone Yak attack tactical, dissectin rappers to the bone (“goddamn…”) Classic boom bap beats, body bags under the snares Metaphysical assassin, leave the spirit gaspin air Flay weak MCs publicly, expose the lack of prayer Half these rappers all aesthetic, zero substance there Original thought, classic style, take a load off Sit awhile and watch the real survive while the clones soft Yak walked a thousand miles in busted shoes with cold socks Now the cadence switch quicker than the hands on a G-Shock One flew over cuckoo nests Too intelligent to coexist Superman inside the phone booth Transform when the pressure hit Suppose Yak juxtapose unopposed flows over drumrolls Untouchable tongue control, impossible puzzle codes No dam hold back the flood once the floodgates explode No man go where Yak go, these roads got blood on ‘em (“talk slick…”) Flow so fine-print intricate, hidden inside the outro Every verse got Easter eggs buried beneath the vinyl Sign on the line, money on the mind but never blinded Can’t buy happiness but high still wave from cloud nine grinnin I’ma get mine, own my time, independent orbit Never needed validation from a room full of corpses Most these people fear freedom ‘cause responsibility enormous Yak be exactly where he wanna be and that’s important Fly skyline, line time, find mine, shine bright City lights reflect off the pen when I write nights No casa, su casa, yours is mine by sunrise Kick the damn door off the culture then redesign life Backspin-black ink-crack rib-cages Half these cats big cap clickbaitin Yak still blacksmith craftin language Bare hands bend beats till they shape-shift Mic grip tight like brake systems Fight night energy when the bass hittin Y’all online tough till the space different Then it’s eye contact loss and straight crickets Slow it down… See— I ain’t really interested in barely bein remembered. I’m tryna leave verses so cold people hear ‘em ten years later and feel they spine reset. (“line time…”)
