southpaw punching through the gates of hell
attaching bars to AK 47 shells
sprayin til Lucifers cranium's impaled
creating Days of Doom
spending my days and noons inside danger rooms
creating art in multiple shades of blue
they said I resembled Bob Ross
when my afro bloomed
the microphone's my paintbrush
I maul it on cue before take two
spittin astronomical greatness since grade school
before T-Pain had Autos to tune, my brain grew
now i walk on the moon without a space suit
it's more than that Chocolate Thai that got me high
one glimpse of her hypnotic eyes
n my mind 'short_circuits' like Johnny Five
yet I contain myself and stay an honest guy
with bionic rhymes, one line is worth Six Million
classic sculptor, breathing life into my art like Pygmalion
runnin laps around MCs and I ain't even in my top gear
fuc Jigga I'd rather do an album with Zamfir
you idiots are squirrels in my headlights, I can spot fear
then proceed to 'mow down' competition like a John Deere
u want raw skills? that's what I've got here
mainstream rap is very deprived
it's all watered down, like any section of Vibe
and the Source now, i hope I live to see its demise
i'm underground for life, like being buried alive....
by the way I spoke wit B.I.Gs ghost...
And he wasn't ready to die.
RIP to all the fallen soldiers of hiphop... I wish the feds arrested people who kill rappers... dah well.
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