[Verse 1: Asthmatic]
The asthmatic is back at it with the dynamic mechanics
My lyrics are frigid like a gigantic block of ice in the Atlantic
Have you sinking like the Titanic
I stay manic with the ballistic galvanic lyrics
My brain is sick of seeing these lame dicks do to hip hop its tragic
You fools are opposite of erratic
Your program is systematic, I've had it
This Hispanic is ready to drop kick these fools so come at it

[Verse 2: Deji Vu]
I'll run up in clubs, already drunk as a fucker
Smelling like a skunks butt or a trucker
Chucking up, but I still order another
Eyo, pour some bud for a brother
I'll run up in a known whore and tell the slut that I love her
I'm troubled, doubling down shots
Ogling groundhogs, converting virgins to good suckers
Cum in their stomachs and turn lookers into woodchuckers
When I'm done they'll be uggerz, like retired porn stars
Expired goods, I just shrug, find a recovered addict and mug
Him for funds and spend the money on drugs, do it for funs
The buzz, just living to the fullest until I'm full of bullets
For being full of it, shit, might order my own hit

[Verse 3: Will and The Mix]
Take a break, turn off the tele and get in the helicopter
Twisted, pissed off kid, I got a demented plot to
Shoot any fake rapper down, can't tell me not to
(He's fucked in the head and evil, it's hell he's off to)
Pop a pill, pop I kill, hip hop is ill, there's no stopping Will
I might not got a mil but you still see me dropping Lil
Wayne, what the fuck's come of rap? I run the track
But a wack rapper, you see 'em coming back
I cross the finish line every time and in the rhyme
I can take down any fake rapper from New York to Palestine
With one steel clip I shoot down every non-real spitter
Just cause they're bigger I don't feel bitter, it's sealed *****

[Verse 4: imperfectmythos]
Wesley Dodds sleep running from fear weak gunning
With no fisticuffs; anarchy, robberies no handcuffs
Keith and R.A Thorburn mix; watch the thorns turn shit
Verbal holocaust; immortal as the eternal fall apart
Sandstone walking cryptic; damned home for talking simplistic
Conceptions of rejection; rambling incessant

[Verse 5: Wayfarer]
Sitting in the dark, eyes focused on the canvas
Pitch black room, tomblike, gloomy in the blackness
Here I cater to the masses, inspired by the ashes
As I sit back on the mattress spit my lines begin to practice
Cause it's here there's no distractions, my mind is free to access
It's this madness got my tryna knock the world off its axis
I'm praying like a Baptist, I need to write a classic
Fuck the atlas, man I'm going supernova that or past it
.