Remember me? Probably not, but don't worry, I wouldn’t either
What's that? Another Tom Bomb blowing out your speaker
As Luck Would Have It, yeah we're still at it, as addicts;
I can’t imagine not participating; continuation's contagious
Case in point: present time, demonstration of dedication
To the craft. Crept and came in, correcting laymen from Basements
Deprivation led to hatred; self-destructive detonations
Incessant steps never taken; no betterment; never changing
Take a taste of your medicine, MCs; steadily checking them
Microphones, ready to catch wreck, resting in pestilence
Unbeknownst to them, this Plague's spreading as many messages
Over these Slanted Sidewalks, into their heads, in essence
It's a test; a never-ending development meant to deaden this
Sorry excuse for a scene. Pardon the truth that's in me
However it's impeccable; pen or pencil, or pedestal
I'll find a way to send it, bet in the end it's inevitable
Evident as most bred-to-be-better-than-bests’ recreant
Delicate mess centers; never hesitant to predicate;
Let us commence sentencing, set to extreme prejudice;
Carry it out recklessly. Swift as a six-legger
Reinforcing what’s important; swore to remain elusive
Force a facing-of-the-music of sorts and then make them use it
The lore of one day removing a sword that would slay the stupid;
Exsanguination taking place as blood pours to the pavement; putrid!
A portion of the portrait painted in pain is the main cue or allusion
Not illusion, to what happened; factual truths
Rather than subterfuges, the latter is what we're proving
To gradually eradicate; damn if you don’t approve it (prove it)

As if that even matters, nothing's new under the standard
Pay attention to the man who's standing mic-attached-to-hand
And as he gathers up attention spans and spans the time, he's asking
You oblige attempts to expand your mind; perhaps you might imagine

A summoning of the Kraken (cracking) drums; entrust in that which
When practiced becomes fact in Lovecraftian manner magic
Stylistically it’s interesting, gripping these little factions
And their fictions, while continually envisioning attacking
Their attempts at rapping rapidly; rabbit-in-hat trick patterning
Plastic passion past (passed) in a panoramic view panning
And it seems as if it's actually that which was never had
Yet in reality the fantasy-as-fact is damn near canon
Teach a way to rearrange it; please--and thanks--be gracious
And pray that is the way to manipulating impatience
It's a razor-sharp sensation; making an art through statements
Breaking apart clichés without waiting to start creating
Never cared too much to meddle in affairs I don't find relevant
Whether or not it registers with me isn't a requisite
Setting up a new precedent reminiscent of negligent;
Until then, catch me pressing on with my pessimistic preferences

As if that even matters, nothing's new under the standard
Pay attention to the man who's standing mic-attached-to-hand
And as he gathers up attention spans and spans the time, he's asking
You oblige attempts to expand your mind; perhaps you might imagine