cosmics

im not the one to politic, i poly with shadows and plot wit it

got trauma boxed up like apocalypse kits, im not that positive

tossin' threats like they compliments, i contradict consciousness

seen hell in a prism lens, eyes wide through consequence

dont quote me, i ghostwrite death, my left hand a omen

right hand held grudges so long, it formed a golem

yo god aint my god, my aura blacker than colon

code switch on instinct, my voice split like a modem

rap for the warped minds, past lives in the folder

spittin' since older heads said you cold, but colder

made peace wit pain, now i barter it for closure

shoot a bar like a blooper, its still a body on the poster

i aint elite, but got double lines in a sentence

even the priest said i rhyme too relentless

bless me and perish, dissect me like a lyricist fetish

rappin' circles like im tryna trap spirits in a session

if i die in this booth, loop my breath in a pattern

my mind in a war, but my words move like saturn

ring around truths, these rappers plastic like ladders

i climb em just to break em, then rap on the shattered

no gimmicks, just grim writtens in grimace expressions

this that grim reaper readin' psalms with aggression

i spit for the kids who got left with no weapons

but turned every notebook into nuclear tension