My celestrial style more wild and vile then satan's child/
straight through death row like the green mile//
My lyrical spiritual miracle/
Smack ya silly leavin ya hysteer-ical//
I know that it's my dest-i-ny, so I'll quest-to-be the best-emcee/
Cookin' my lyr-a-cy, average netcees will never learn my rec-i-pes//
Testin'-me and I'll break they bound-ar-ies when I spit ill-raps
Feign kills-cats and breaks they backs for spitin weak traks
Ya clik gets no luv, from women or girls//
My raps keep em spinnin like tilt-a-whirls, and shinin' pearls//
True spectacles, gettin them sexual, but ya missin testicles
Your style's lame and clashed/
It Leaves ya in the past, in a wake of aftermath//
After the bright flash, covered in ash, from the atomic-blast//
Ya posin as ly-ri-cists but none of you cats are even worth-a-dime
A shameful-crime, a waste of time and unworthy rhymes
I'm the first-to-grind, think wit a dirty-mind at certain-times
Class wit' them amazin' lines
Instead of hatin'...
You should be contemplatin' rewind
My name's defined
As "Excellence Personified"
Class Eastwood wit' lyrics so "raw" ya' "hide"
Literally.... cause you to die
I'm heated all year round
Ya'll just hot in July
You ask who am I? Who the hell are you?
Gettin FEIGNed interest from ya own fuckin crew
The best emcees philosophy is to be as good as me
Former-ly a newb netcee, spittin hipocracy when tryin to write his multi's
like the falcon, get out when
things is goin down gettin my sound abound
done scowlin the ground
