[Intro / Arrival] I’m…..IM!!!!!…. I HAVE… ARRIVED!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! Yo..yo..YOOOOOOOOO!!!! [Verse 1 — Chaos & Swagger] From the Dragon to the Dracul, I spin the dreidel, Felt the fade since the cradle — a Straid parade, graydol-serenade; No ma lady, melody — I’m a pulled pin, tossed out like a grenade. Torpedo Tornado, toward the award; So saddle up — be mad, glad, sad… be proud I’m bad. Just as the sovereign said — bruh, I been dead; Left headless, fed up, defenseless, bent to the lent; Godsent but still pretentious. Augmented frauds modded, modeled my unbottled dottles; Teeter-toddled meter-squatter; meat beaters and beetle eaters — Creatures so evil their needles feature the preacher; Peaches from reapers, reppin’, prep-pairin’ lepers tearin’. Peter pepper pricked pickled pockets, shock sockets, Lockets stocked, coffin-audits, concocted doctrine, dockets — Mach-speed mockery; clock me. Concoctin an auction, flossin; glossed processed crosses; Cross this — prophets my process; preposterous press posse prophecy; Suboxin poxy, the proxy saucy; Ali Solasse; ka-bossy. Offaly; quaff, Ser-off, Him. Double barrel to the coughin’; Fits in like a sin; drip to your chin. Glass cut turn your ass to your butt; smut. Veluptual combustin’, cussin’, fist-fuckin’ flustered frustration, Use my strong hand; a high demand. The man, banned to the can. Patzels, pretzels, stencil penciled — reprimand; Not Stan, no idle bystander. Smack back till I never lack; Matchu ignition; a twitched vision now clickin’. Sounds sickened; been found wicked; wick-whicker; Bitches bicker, bigger britches; liquor-elixir, lick-her liquid, A little liter — leeddle leacher. To each their own — I own to the bone; bologna. So moan, Sloan; Sylvester Stallone. A bit Rocky start to my new home; ’Bout to get a new phone. Still standin’ — reignin’ champ… My Throne of Ash and Bone. ⸻ [Verse 2 — Self / Revelation] I don’t need your validation — A bit frustrated in my creation; I breathe life from dust into elation. Sedated brain-rot; a chemical drip-sip till your heart stops. Yeah, the talent is there — but can my people truly see What kind of vision my incisions truly be? Or do they just hear obnoxious? I concocted the oxen and stood in the Brunson-burner, Put it up to my learner — slurrin’ curls, twirled spurs, Swirlin’ pearls like a beaded chain. I got a lot more to this than just some fantasy game. No Beavis but we can Butt heads — but yeah, this shit’s coal. No longer in confusion — my dilution unusual, But hey, I made it a musical. Better than prancin’ like chanting-mancer; My hand reprimands the lancer — a chance, no fancy pants, But my stance romantical. From the sinner to the saint — draw your sword quick. I’m the dawn of the new day and I slay in every day. Down from my ascension; pretending my falls call, Stars extracting my bars — stacked higher than myself. Fire applied; viral mires conspire spiral wires Wrappin’ my cackle — laughing as my Lord watches; My honor, my armor; dawn-drawn sword — my amour. The condor to the core — Azra to the pore. Wait till I perfect this method. I’ll bless you with my every cut — And I can’t wait until the stut-ter deters, tea stirred.
