[Intro | sparse eski square-wave tones, heavy sub bass, dry close-mic'd vocal] [Verse 1 | conversational offbeat flow, shifting end rhymes, wry and self-aware] Look, I write a line, watch it bend right past ya, Bend right past ya, step like a master, Step like a master class in the grammar, Grammar is heavy, swing like a hammer, Hammer the tongue till it blunts on the canvas, Canvas is blank till I ink up the madness. I sit in the pocket, I float on the button, Say I am cold, but I’m cooking up nothing— No, I'm cooking up something, the oven is glowing, Watch how the syllables stack while I'm flowing. I drop a double entendre, you miss it, Visit the page and I seal it, I kiss it, Kiss it goodbye when the metaphor lands, Lands in the palm of a thousand clean hands. [Chorus | rhythmic UK rap cadence, tongue-in-cheek delivery] (Talk to 'em) They said my flow is too heavy to lift, I caught the rhythm and blamed it on thrift. Buying my vowels by the pound and the pence, Turning pure gibberish into high sense. Yeah, my pen has a permit to drift, (Pass the mic) My pen has a permit to drift. [Verse 2 | double-time run, chain rhymes, intricate phrasing, forward drive] Chain on the linkage, the rhyme is a pivot, Pivot the sentence and force you to live it, Live it out loud in the heart of the ends, Ends where the track and the alphabet bends, Bends like a hairpin, I tighten the steering, Clearing the static, the critics are peering, Peering through glass at the tricks in the syntax, Syntax so clean that it cuts through the tin tacks. I double the meaning, I double the trouble, Bubble the rhythm and burst it to rubble, Rubble left over from clever construction, Production is pristine, the logic is suction. [Bridge | stripped back, half-time drum pattern, spoken-word cadence] (Hold on) Let’s talk about the pen game for a second. Is it a metaphor, or am I just broke? Either way, the punchline’s working. [Chorus | rhythmic UK rap cadence, tongue-in-cheek delivery] They said my flow is too heavy to lift, I caught the rhythm and blamed it on thrift. Buying my vowels by the pound and the pence, Turning pure gibberish into high sense. Yeah, my pen has a permit to drift, (Pass the mic) My pen has a permit to drift. [Outro | beat drops out, vocal echo throw, dry spoken refrain] Permit to drift. Keep the change.
