Able

defender of throats, akin to the infamous Rex/

I’m nearly divine in the flesh/

when I flame, I blaze up the sesh/

when I came in, I was ice-veined, the crest/

the fame is still fresh/

I was caught in a spin ‘til I severed the mesh/

don’t get found slippin’/

I’m grippin’ these bars, let the spitters go missin’/

my brain like arenas, they filled to the ceiling/

I lean with finesse like a scholar — no kiddin’/

when foes get split and quit with the lungs for the clinic, I’ll grin and kick back, feelin’ terrific/

like Pharaoh cloth — that’s a wrap/

but the pen ain’t dipped out yet/

I got the steeze of a myth flick silhouette/

flip the script and start wreck/

in the shadows I strike, snatch, wreck my own set/

I throw hands whenever, don’t need a second/

I don’t tick ticks, I tick tricks — with a timepiece I beat up your edges/

you think I won’t lift up the drapes?/

I tug the sheep wool straight/

stride through the block as a woman debates

her steps while she tightens her bag and starts to hate/

I start creepin’ behind/

schemin’ in mind, to stash these lines for the times I must replenish my shine/

aching inside but I trained up the part that most wouldn't define/

each stanza a tantrum to me/

dig through sand or plant feet in debris with three boxes on deck, set to replay a scene where you sleep deep beneath leaves/