Amphetamine Velociraptor 🦖 (EXPLICIT LYRICS)

What do you call this? A jackknife diary in surround sound, A shoebox planetarium where comets crash down. I’m a thrift store philosopher with a magic top hat full of thumbtacks, Droppin’ arcade tokens down bitches ass cracks. I paint sidewalks with riddles that confuse construction crews, Every blueprint bends when I’m writin’ with a busted fuse. I’m a park bench philosopher teaching pigeons how to breakdance, Writing graffiti on the trains just to give the youth a chance. Tempo drags slow, heartbeat bungee cord heavy, The bassline stumbles but my tongue stretch steady. Microfilm hidden in a melted cassette, I etch threats on receipts from a diner’s kitchenette. Yeah, I sell fake horoscopes scrawled on taco wrappers, Auction off dream fragments to amateur backpackers. I’m the landlord of a flea circus billing rent in shoelaces, Tax collectors chase me down with maps of two faces. Breaking into pet stores teaching iguanas kung fu, Every gecko got a black belt, snapping kicks against bamboo. My hobby? Sewing chain link into blankets, Then donating ‘em to poets who recite while they’re anxious. Dumpster prophets keep scribbling on lunch trays, Meanwhile I DJ Shakespeare in a subway. Excavating fossils of comic con conventions, Spin ‘em backwards, hear a voicemail beggin’ for attention. Now the snare smacks sharper, my volume climbs higher, I suplex rappers through Ikea chairs and razor wire. Internet brawlers typing threats with their thumbs, But in person they fold quicker than pizza slices, nah scratch that one, crumbs. Your wordplay’s plastic, bought off Amazon Prime, Mine burn like lithium batteries on the airline. I choke slam slogans, pile drive hooks, Leave mixtapes floating face down in kiddie pools, look… I’m a Guy Fawkes mask wearin’, saboteur with molotov lungs, Who drenches microphones in gallons of rum. Thumb war rappers can’t spar in my bracket, I write train wreck anthems, derail your whole racket. I deadlift crowds, press verses like kettlebells, Tattoo “loser” on your dreams with a bloody carousel, Disrespectful? Damn right, it clings like sap, Like gum stuck beneath your grandma’s orthopedic strap. I’m a pixelated Master Shredder of notepads, Flipboard tongue with a slipstream toe tag, Cold blood sprint like a lizard on propane, Whole stage quakes when I hit it with road rage. Clock hand breakneck, makin’ flows ricochet, Kick-snare triplets spit guided missiles at your D N A, Hallway soundin’ like a stampede of rollerblades, Fans catch vertigo trying just to hold their place. Lyrical hysterical, pent up particle, Carnivore arm muscle, no wait, scratch Martian Manhunter article, Arsenal armory carving your arteries, Harmony shattered in paradox charter fees. Tongue lash lightning, knife fight writing, Cyclone igniting in a pipeline striking, Strobe light velocity spin through the labyrinth, Folks can’t track the point of entry to where the dagger’s in. Backflip kick jawbones snapping like toothpicks, I’m ruthless. Run quick, fakeness forced into gun shifts, Stunt ripped lungs spittin’ dopeness curing cataracts, Hammer blast paragraphs faster than your weak ass battle raps. Velociraptor raps with a throat full of amphetamines, Shattering anatomy, scatter your academy, Battery assault when I’m spitting with velocity, Faster than internet trends dying in monotony. Panic in the algorithm, people losin’ breath, Every diss is a barbell, bench pressin’ death. Losers chase pace like a cripple in a hailstorm, I leave mics melted, solar beams brainstorm galore. Overclock lungs spit gunmetal soliloquies, Splinter every ligament, infinite artillery. So what do you call it? A blueprint of disarray, A riddle that collapses while the crowd sways forward or away. Chew on it, spit it, in the comments y’all stalk, But the beat keeps bouncing as I forever shit talk.