On
• Written by user711322663
It’s the boss a don, a hip hop phenomenon bring the underground back to life like where the pocket monster doctor put the fossils on
Trodden on from the bottom to on top as strong as concrete columns from the coliseum and Connor in the octagon
Belt I’ve Got it on want smoke cop a bong, jog along or I’ll knock your noggin off and drop you from the comp like Boston bombs
Imposters got their costumes on Comecon comics on a con bond them to a block in the bottom of la garonne
I’m far beyond your model your from swamps and ponds and donkey kongs,
I have knowledge from the gods and not that once upon they profit from,
I’m where the word philosophic from,
Your logics gone? Rappers act as an automaton, modelled from a porygon,
Id die for this shit squatting on the John
i rock it like Dwayne Johnson Olajuwon cross lebron and oscar Robertson
Keep your circle close like a locked panopticon to correspond, if you don’t get my point you’ve dropped the ball and you’ve lost a don,
I’m as Cold as what Bomber Thompson’s gotten on
not forgotten you rock cotton on, I’m as unstable as wobbly paths of cobble polygons
If we never got along, a lot is wrong id Twist the top of a vodka bottle off, Molotov ya cottage from a bonfire to a coffin gone
Don’t make me relay this track if you’re lost, it’s a dropped baton,
And my only recreation but tv with Ron Swansons comments on
It goes on and on, from comma to what I’ve plotted on I’m nonchalant my monologue is commonly known as the Necronominon
If there’s stage lights then I’m probably on, insane mind quick as comsmatrons , on the rocky tops at great heights your not stopping on
You proper mong, This a Steak knife to ya sausage tongs,
A grade high they might copy from try take bites this a great white to a wobbigong
On the lollies doc Hugh lories on,
A Scholar wise as Solomon, got my novel ink blotted with a solemn PJ colophon
Could make a proper song with vomit spit caustic toxic tonic
I’ve got a cosmic bond the embodied god Tetragrammaton, I’m gone