The Gas Mask General

Nothing is gonna stop me. Im back.. Bitches.

 

Ive envisioned the horrific, ripping through hell with persistance.

Prolific writtens enscripted, into my veins as I regain sickness.

Depicted within my scriptures are the images of wickedness.

Limitless visiousness as I bite off their faces, then spit out thier ligaments.

Intracet incisions of surgical perscision.

Collisions within the mind to shatter physics is my mission.

Be submissive and listen, hear my pace begin to quicken.

It's back to business, the illness has returned, I'm once again the reptillian.

Attacking your senses, with lyrics thats hittin from another dimension.

Visions of money in my eyes so I always pay attention $$

Don't mention my name, or get ya throat stabbed with a pencil.

Niggas wanna trace my outline for greatness like Ima stencil!

Im back now, snatchin out ribs, usin them to stab faces.

Crackin backs with maces, my fire lyrics leavin no traces;

Of my opponets left, deliverin a fate worse than death.

My flow suprasses even that of the oceans furthest depth.

Strapped with a Mack, an Ak, razorblades and handgrenades;

Im the one man, killer kamikaze bomber brigade.

Causin catastrophes, till you actually see Renod's a massive beast.

Its like the music is the Titan Im the Demi God, I Clash with beats.

As the battles ceased, the instrumentals beneath me in defeat.

The rest of hip hops soldiers fall back hastily in retreat.

I deservingly decapitate heads, and vacate throwns of kings.

Fight fire breathin dragons with bare hands and rip off their' wings.

Shoot streams of laser beams at the ocean hopin for no motion.

Ready to fight the elements of nature that I have been provokin.

Sittin back smokin the ozone, I watch as humanities choking.

I told them constantly to listen to the words that Ive spoken.

The sickness I spit it vicious, chemical bombs, hear them hittin.

Yall bitchin cuz my writtens got hella percision and Im never missin.

If you niggas had books for eyes you still couldnt see my written bitch.

I use a volcano for a pen so I can show a hot script.

Drop it you muffuckas know that you cant stop it.

When I squeez and twist ya neck like a cork until I pop it.

Stab you with the fragments that I shattered from ya jawbone.

I take some X and start speedin round the world like the garden gnome.

You dudes aint even in my stadium, so you cant see the endzone.

Hit niggas with magical uppercuts, Abrakadabra. now ya chins gone.

Demonic savage, I ravage the miniscule religious ministires.

I have the perpincity to manipulate monumentous transparent iniquitities.

The idiocy of this lifetime I decree is a bunch of mysteries.

Throughout history humanities survival has raised many inquiries.

Questioning the depth of the human thought process;

Yet we accept there are things we cant access.

Do I give the human race less credit than deserved

Thats an ubsurd question, bcuz my judgements not obscured.

Now Im the first, second, and third sickest lyrcist on the planet.

I knew one day this would be the outcome bcuz I planned it.

So underhanded in my tactics, sparratic when I attack it.

Words fomulate rhymes on my paper like I do magic.

The fact is that my mental synapse dishes out classics.

So call me the father of rap tho Im not claiming you bastards!

So in essence my presence envelopes your witness.

To the devestation I will unleash so prepare for the sickness.. GMN