Bars

If you reset, you’ll see the net: the hidden messages,

The pen reflects the intellect that recollects the scripts.

And when it hits, the lyric lifts, the inner limit splits—

The mind commits, the light transmits through every fitted bit.

 

The hardest part, are not the bars

The art is far from being scarred

It's smart and sharp: the cards are pars

The heart gets darker with the beat

As weakness spreads its shards: defeat exceeds the bar's charm

As one completes the threads, in a neat design

Repeat the line as one succeeds: the time's aligned

The rhyme's concrete: deceit indeed's unique

The fleet is ready for a steady sleep

In twenty feet, the empty seats compete

If you take LSD, as an MC, the melody will complete

Especially if every beat correctly seeds

Directly leads to an easy street

Manhattan is no city of dreams

Still, it happens to be: busy to hippies

At random, an album can be silly

But NMC's anthem could be platinum

Its status is: handsome canvas: lattice of madness

Needs to be masterful

Every atom of the phatom rapper

It is vicious and hazardous: look at the cameras

Even Lazarus can see the patterns

The last chapters of this class on avarice lack purpose

The surface of the surplus can seem absurd to others

But the service ser for purchase is worthless

It needs more certainty: no wordless verses

The Justice League said the sees the technique

 

The hardest part, are not the bars

The steps are set, some thefts are left

Far from the nests are webs, they’re kept ahead

Macbeth once said: if you’re upset, don’t feed regret

See, if you keep your head, you’re set

Take the medicine to Edison: the best residence is at a distance

To assist the revenue: net out the extra residue

That is, the stale lettering : fails better centering of sweaters

Latter members of the alphabet resemble elders

The onset of the opposite: it’s essential to eventful men

The proximate causes of nonsense pause the contest

The clauses of the process have context

And the logic in the process is not obvious

The profit from the previous stock has fallen

The common men should pardon the prophet

The target if the verse is the first market

If you figure you’re smart at making written pictures

Enough to reconfigure the given system of fingers

If the lyrics linger within the digits

Then, in minutes, the visits ask for tickets

The exhibits are masked bigots

The liquid written rhythm gains certificates from the syndicate

If you're valid to enter the lyricist's illicit ballad

I recommend you bring some acid

The interest is limited to the mission

Its the intrinsic predicted scripts

 

If you reset, you’ll see the net: the hidden messages,

The pen reflects the intellect that recollects the scripts.

And when it hits, the lyric lifts, the inner limit splits—

The mind commits, the light transmits through every fitted bit.