50 lines

yo. Take a seat or stand, I really don’t give a damn.

All that I demand is you save your speech... before I leave your fam

I’m puncturing fate with a lunge so fatal,

God’s own angels duck for shade when I touch the halo!

You mumble statements over jumbled bass riffs,

Your oxygen pockets diminish, your conscience relinquishes!

I kickboxed your existence into cosmic dimensions,

High hopes make your buzz deflate quick like a drug patient’s lung inflation

Your stunted fables, busted labels, crumble fatal,

Like a rusted cradle cut from a hundred cables!

You stumbled aimless, making your structure cave in,

Before I conduct engravings on your ruptured frame

with a tungsten blade tip to rupture frameworks 'til your muscle gains twitch,

Like a puppets chain-link on a rusted crane bitch!

Your function is phasin' like a corrupted nation's reconstruction phases,

Using a pen-stroke taken from the sun's rotation!

I reshape civilizations, erupt brainstems, summon quakes with one engagement,

Your lungs deflatin' ain't a punchline, it's a demonstration!

Peep the paradox: they shade the shine then praise the prime,

Because I raise design, divine with cadence laced in lines!

Comments became commandments when greatness rhymes,

I’ll fortify the faith in time, re-rooting the field with swords of light!

Bones crumbling like origami trees, your soul trapped in ash,

Your lungs gasping like they begging please through the disease!

I carve your fate in sections, burn circuits in your verses on purpose,

Sewn in a scroll with no parole, cold flows corrosive

leave you stiff in a frozen hole! Bodybag zipped, no script for a soul patrol,

Your final chapters closed... I’m the toll in the road to woe

ever again, don’t provoke a scope from the code of a rogue ascension,

My flows are loaded weapons that'll fold your whole dimension!

My quotes are goats, all wrote with a dose of dope, I broke the soul's tension,

When I spoke vengeance, I woke the nodes of a cold invention

We can play Jigsaw: I’ll flip claws, rip jaws, split squads in a brick hall,

In your flesh I’ll stitch laws with a BIG saw then vanish in thick fog!

I’m Death’s disciple with a sick draw, you tip odds in a fix fraud,

Attempt to take on the Great One, you’ll get your wig tossed!

My sixth thoughts split limbs like pitch logs in a fist brawl,

Then shifts Gods off Olympus cliffs with a hip toss!

Your clique: the slick czar of spit bars that clip stars,

Will spin down like pitfalls from a blitz squad!

That drift cars into brick shards then flip hard,

I’ll bring back Big with a grip large like a Sith arm!

You fold like gift cards and clothes in a thrift mart,

With your entire bitch squad criss-crossed like a kid's scar

It’s chin cartilage, slick art, which means this shit is pitch dark,

Murder rap grit carved into script arcs where heart valves flick sparks!

I’m like a witch's mark on a sin chart, sent to send away you snitch narc,

Who'd get bit hard in a shark tank just for the bitch talk!

I’ll click clocks on your wrist watch, stop tick tock,

Rip plots from your mid-thoughts... then lift off.