st ars

Spitting straight bars, ensure the job is done Killing they corpse, it's all to pocket lunch Stealing, brake fast his car is junk No rapper matches my tractor they all just grains An ant to a tarantula, a cell to brains I excel at brains, ink and hype I think and write when they on the brink of fighting I stink at life but still I might paint a picture Pop post traumatic stress disorder in ya Most of artists can't think beyond getting richer I figure I can hone my literature Little things in life, thick lines of thoughts All written down, is it mine or a bot's It's so mastered it's artificially crafted But I broke the nib and spilled the cartridge It's all mine, all bone and cartilage No ghosts, all the phantoms departed Ari's back to finish what he started Your music's cathartic, my music's cathartic I'll make you wanna emancipate son, Gonna have to keep your aunts at bay After I'm done you'll be a thin garment Maybe a skin carpet like a manta ray I'm on the first floor here to ruin your Saturday Lock the third door, that's a chance you have to take Words or tools to finish, I got a vast array Of each don't resist it you may have to rack your brain My philosophy shocks Socrates, My lyrics shake fear into Shakespeare Rappers all been doing it awfully, New theorems proven today here Matter of fact I leave artefacts Carve in pad little glyphs of infancy So I can look back in ten years and compare this to my symphonies If you're under my radar I'll eat you up like agar Play your organs, wipe you off the map like Weimar Stray bar perfection, new playlist addition Let the due date be fiction, still few may reach my diction