My second track. Hot joint right here. Produced by Memobeats

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This song is about how I feel when I start flowin and everything just connects, I get in the zone

[chorus]
rhymin and i cant stop, Im in the zone/
wont stop breathin hip hop, Im in the zone/
keep inhalin till my lungs pop, im in the zone/
stop drop and roll, hot with flow im in the zone/

cats faded im still definite, hip hop i represent/
stomp charades of counterfeit kittens cloaked in leopard print/
illness inflaming brains, keep stinging like bumble bees/
pump punches to tees till they chests swelled to double D's/
i rumble these tracks im the ferocity master/
jurassic powered speed call me "velocity rapper"/
droppin them actors guilds kill emphatically with a vengence/
shakespearean scripts, its tragedy when my pen hits/
tremendously skilled fight with mics the verbal soldier/
make a racket and serve more opponents than kournikova/
emcees, beg for tips cause my styles on point, flawless/
crawlin on they knees, they couldnt match my joints rawness/
mental tallness so high they think it's herbally lifted/
spittin tongue twistin wisdom thats just verbally gifted/
explosive strategies on the fly, shatter you with the blast/
my polaroid mind has lines developed in a flash/

[chorus]

i bring the heat like miami basketball call it rappin tall/
when im shaqin yall with enough force to crack a ball or two/
snappin all of you with easier game than fingers/
emcees feel like windows with all the pane that lingers/
graphite is my lightning, streaks of power slash the page/
be warned with brain storms im crazed and always act with rage/
but dont complain, i dont give a sh*** like constipation/
make me wait and im kevorkian, i aint got the 'patients'/
swing like a sailor, fists whistlin to stop guys/
eatin spinach or not, ya still endin up with popped eyes/
actors bringin prop mics... aint spittin true to life/
to believe ya stories i must be hittin buddha right?/
my spits is fluid tight like glue 'n stuck in ya ear/
hit sharp with every syllable like chuckin a spear/
my wild steez be killin emcees who lackin the style/
nigga im off the hook, like OJ after his trial/

[chorus]

cop umbrellas when i spit it, me stop the flow? NEVER/
i rain so much, fish complainin of wet weather/
yo i let feathers fly, when im battlin birds/
like a diamond back tokin a spliff, i rattle an herb/
smokin ya clique, brains cant straddle my words/
flowin to grip tight on beats so i saddle the verse/
louder than bursts clappin, 'n gettin murked in the hood/
i straight up pop ya cockiness, like burstin ya wood/
for certain i would, hip hops fuelin my core/
from the, umbilical chord to the funeral doors/
emcees come up short, should'a brought a stool to the war/
kill beef like matadors that fought a bull with a sword/
pullin the cord round they neck to get they vocals tight like mine/
these suicide jokers write light lines/
i fight like sine graphs, my attacks in constant waves/
scorin instant classics on lock like bach in a cage/

[chorus]