(“choo choo…”) Yeah… Mos Jeph. (“celestial flows…”) (“all aboard…”) Yak in the station, choir chops echo through the terminals Lyrical trains never late, conductor with the eternal pull Early morning thoughts still smokin while the world half-lucid Words chuggin down tracks through dimensions futuristic Current, past, future, present all melt in the quantum mirror But you can’t see me clearly through the smoke and scripture Talk box, pop rocks, boom-bap onomatopoeia Holy smokes Batman, Mos back with another creature This your baptism— welcome to the Church of Yak No organized religion, this spiritual jazz attached to rap Underground sewer flows grimy where the ooze adapt Catacomb visions while the weak minds collapse (“goddamn…”) You say you got bars but your bars got you trapped Locked inside a tiny cage beggin algorithms to clap Me? I’m a mage with the language, celestial and dangerous Exquisite as museum exhibits with cosmic arrangements Reverends write sermons about the words that Yak deliver These serpents wanna steal the style but can’t cross the river Creek to the Nile, sit awhile, take notes from the professor Emeritus rhyme lecturer with breath control pressure School of rhyme— you enrolled now. Every syllable gold-plated when the soul sound. I ain’t cappin, I ain’t rappin, this Yak in action Faction too fast for weak minds to keep traction Get right or get left, caboose vamoose adiós There he go again moonwalkin over drum rolls Cure pain with the pen, art imitate life Sword sharper than awards, silver tongue cut precise Verbal lacerations leave imitation artists shattered Spice Girl aesthetics, no substance in the pattern Meanwhile Yak build cathedrals out the rhythm and the grammar Every cadence switch crack the concrete under rappers 🎵 Celestial flowwwwws… Yak ride the rails where the lost souls go… 🎵 Choo choo, all aboard, line time overload… Boom bap thunder when the sky crack open gold… 🎵 Milk and honey in the land above… Even broken hearts still find divine love… 🎵 End of the line but the spirit still grows… Mos Jeph black belt with celestial flows… 🎵 (“line time…”) (“yakkkk…”) Bullet train cadence— bang-boom-bap-bank this Whole damn planet still laggin on the bandwidth Eye in the sky till I die, brick by brick So sick nonfiction rhythm hit harder than Tyson fists Hot shit against machines we elite undefeated Little engine couldn’t compete even if he cheated Road Runner beep-beep speed demon on the sequence Keep it one-hundred no cliché weak speeches Take you to the land above, milk and honey overflow She whisper low “help me help you,” bless the soul Rhymes absolve wounds people carry and never show Every verse a resurrection for the lost below Afterlife— here we are born again regardless Near or far don’t matter once the train departin Yak take all comers in this here rail car Misfits, artists, dreamers, broken hearts, all-stars (“all aboard…”) Last stop— end of the line. Time move strange when you finally own your mind. I don’t want a slice, motherfucker, I want the whole pie World mine, skyline glow in the third eye Slow it down… Most people never escape the cage in they head. They decorate it. Normalize it. Call it adulthood. Meanwhile Yak still ridin through dimensions with a notebook full of lightning. (“celestial flows…”)
