46 lines

let’s get visceral I’ll leave you with a disability,

A physical liability, destroying your stability.

You walk with a limp but you got no cane,

A homicidal design inflicting the permanent pain.

You say you think like a pimp? You’re an imp with a limp,

A shriveled up character, a technical shrimp.

You’re a Crip with no gang, no set, and no bitch,

Just a snitch in a ditch with a permanent twitch.

I’m the Harbor Bay Butcher—carving the cadaver,

Leaving your entire legacy shattered in the slather!"

Look at him! He’s unstable... crawling without a cane in the Matrix,

While I’m the Sovereign Sire perfecting the ancient physics.

It’s an anomalous apparatus, a Master Thesis,

I comminute your combinations and shatter the pieces.

A lamentably insufferable plebeian with a fabricated pimp-talk,

I’m the Architect of the Citadel observing your limp-walk.

I turn nothing into money, grind into shine with a design,

Flipping scripts like gymnastics 'til the status aligns.

Composing complex writtens competition is nonexistent,

I’m the Zenith of the Matrix lethally consistent.

I’m blessed by the best, feared by the rest, clearing the chest,

I’m ATMing Always Taking Money, tearing the test.

The flu—Achoo!I sneeze on the keys, I’m blessed with the freeze,

A misfit with the scripts, ripping scripts with degrees.

I’m ATMing Automated Technical Mastery,

Breaking your anatomy with mathematical strategy.

You’re gassed up, masked up, passed up, and lame,

Manipulating the fabric 'til you’re bodied in the game.

But let’s talk about the menace I’m the Lyrical Goliath,

Holding the controller sideways while I riot on the pious.

You’re a degenerate goof, a spoof, an Ellen DeGeneres,

I’m presiding over hearses with the death of my sentences.

I’ll play soccer with severed heads that’s a Header for the Goal,

I’m the G.O.A.T. taking the head just to separate the soul.

Planting C4 in the Accord we are not in agreement,

I’m the intruder in the basement you’re the blood on the cement

I’m the Professor putting pressure on the treasure, it’s infinite,

A sophisticated blueprint, every syllable is intricate.

You’re a lamentably insufferable plebeian on a seesaw,

I’m the Sovereign Sire tearing zebras with a beast-claw.

I comminute your combinations with surgical precision,

An anomalous apparatus blinding your vision.

I’m the Architect of the Matrix, Nathan Blaze, the Ace of Spades,

Composing complex writtens while I’m sharpening the blades.

I turn water to rhymes, grind into shine, it’s Jesus at Guelph Lake,

Now pass the mic... before the shivers make the Citadel quake