That's that

An early toke, not a burly bloke, but sturdy folk

Not yearning broke, half-a twice a yapper wordy moke

No heinous stroke of coke, but rock-a-puddle soaked

Can't clack a cloak, but dirty jokes and urban croaks

Here i'm nothing but a backward bone-mugging urban bee

Rap's a war on the street - daffy daily turned me an amputee

Glad to be, a palatabley passing fucking great MC

Everyday audacious plea, pick the fruit of the poison tree

Every alley find me wasted hung, yo I'm fairly young

Never indecrous, phoenix flows stay hot like the sun

The sage is burnt to crumb, the pipe scorched like my laden lung

Witches tongue, trigger happy finger on the bristling gun

Refracting entoglossal flows trynna trail a tale

Ebrious but hardly frail, tedious but always hail

Surgent with my rhymes, almost asphyxiated but never stale

Applause is imminent, the whole crowd looking pale