# NO IDEA WHERE THIS IS GOING [Intro] Yo... give me another beat. Nah, keep this one. Look, I was gonna say I'm probably the illest alive, then looked in the mirror like, "Dude, don't lie." Whatever. Check it. [Verse 1] I grab the mic like evidence, bag it and tag it, hand it to the next man cracked and damaged, manic with language, mechanical habits, a sandwich, a bandage, I'll rhyme with a cabbage. See? That's the problem. My brain goes panic, planet, Janet, granite, damn it, I shouldn't say what I'm thinking... actually, fuck it. Clinically cynical, little bit criminal, minimal patience for pitiful generals, I'm Alexander, Hannibal, Dracula, Gallagher, Einstein drunk arguing with a calendar. Gandalf in Walmart holding Excalibur, trying to pay with a broken carburetor. That made no sense. But it rhymed. I'm keeping it. I turn a stapler into something dramatic, slam it down like, "CONTRACT ATTACHED, BITCH!" Terrifying office supplies. I'm dangerous. Probably. Nobody breathing could possibly battle me, then I lose my keys while they're hanging in front of me. Wait, hold on... Battle me, battery, balcony, anatomy, rattle the faculty, rapidly casually, half these rappers are factory-packaged, I'm accidentally attacking the packaging. [Rapid] Click-clack syllables ricochet, pivot the rhythm and switch the phrase, give me a rhyme you think can't be made, Orange? Fuck orange. Door hinge. Close enough. [Hook] You think I'm crazy? You ain't seen shit yet, give me another beat, I ain't even pissed yet. Words in a blender, brain on a glitch set, next MC walking in? Tell him he's next. [Verse 2] Aight, look, I was making a point about modern society, somebody coughed and completely derailed me. Who was that? You? Cool. Now you're in the rhyme scheme. Internationally irrational, accidentally grammatical, practically tactical, half mathematical, half some asshole laughing before the joke's understandable. Doctor said, "Maybe you need medication." I said, "Can the pills do backing vocals?" He stopped taking appointments. Prescriptions, descriptions, misdirection addiction, six different rhythms fighting for jurisdiction. My head's a committee where nobody listens, every thought interrupts the previous sentence. I'm calm. No I'm not. I'm Gandhi, Ozzy, Tyson, Liberace, playing Monopoly drunk with Rocky. I don't even know where I'm going with this. Anyway: Lobby, probably, robbery, pottery, possibly somebody's watching me, honestly I stole this flow from myself then charged myself royalties. Entrepreneurship. Next rapper says he's a monster. Adorable. You ain't a monster, you're an inconvenient Labrador. I'll flatten your catalogue, package it, mail it back with a note saying: "Try again." Damn, too motivational. Scratch that. "Quit." [Rapid] Rhythm inside of a rhythm, a syllable hidden inside of another, give 'em a little then pivot and hit 'em, switch to a completely ridiculous subject. Kitchen appliances, quantum mechanics, banana pajamas, prehistoric mammals, I was gonna rhyme catastrophe with Adam Sandler. No I'm not. Actually... fuck it, new rhyme. [Hook] You think I'm crazy? You ain't seen shit yet, give me another beat, I ain't even pissed yet. Words in a blender, brain on a glitch set, next MC walking in? Tell him he's next. [Verse 3] Yo. Check it. Supposedly hopelessly overly focused, motor-mouth locomotive, nobody controls it, rolling through phonemes, exploding components, then stopping mid-sentence because... What was I talking about? Right. Destroying opponents. I threaten a rapper, compliment his sneakers, then threaten the sneakers and argue with speakers. "Turn me up!" DJ says, "You're clipping." Good. Let the waveform look frightened. Pen with an attitude, notebook disturbed, I'm attacking the language, relax with the nerves. See how responsible I am? Growth. Now back to being horrible. Socrates mixed with a wrestler, Tesla mixed with a heckler, Shakespeare trapped in a shredder with twelve unpaid debt collectors. I'm Shakespeare? No. IKEA nearly defeated me Tuesday. But hand me a beat: metrical, technical, lexical weaponry, recklessly stretching the resonance endlessly, seven-syllable patterns embedded repeatedly, then one dumb word: peepee. Beautiful. That's balance. [Rapid - escalating] Set up a phrase then erase it and chase it, break it, mutate it, rotate and replace it, make a mistake then incorporate it, stumble one time and pretend that I planned it. Tongue tied? Fine. Another rhyme. Missed that snare? Deliberate design. Everything's genius if you lie with confidence. Wait, hold on... Confidence, consequence, continent, consonants, monuments, ominous, honestly common sense probably abandoned this song around verse one. Smart decision. I'm still here. Next MC steps up? Excellent. Come get embarrassed by somebody who spent half the song arguing with office equipment. [Outro] Give me another beat. Why'd it stop? Yo. Look. Aight. Check it... Actually... fuck it. Run it back. [END]
