[Intro]
What's that smell?

[Verse]
I smell sulfate, see
Somethin's still burning from my last one take
When I made rapping great again, oh, wait a second I lost the game
'Cause the top 15 was a slap in the face, dog
So, I'm back with the napalm, a hatchet and masking tape
To take AKT AKTION and Futuristic back to the nearest Studio
Bound, gagged and draped
Better back up a taxi or van with the money, first place cash in the hand
While im wonderin' what i gotta' do to get a bit of credit
When I shouldn't ever be, like a small white
In a half pipe, get 'em mad hyped like a satellite antenna
When I crash, tone never, oh heaven, my career got a half pride bong
And then calcide and now bite the [momel-white?]
Yeah that's right, your raps like a fucking [?] anacrite, just back nine, cuz the leg might couldn't now spike back strike
So let me get another chance to attack mics
The one with the half of the wrath, that I pack and a punch
When I'm crabbieng cake and my guns, got a mac and a pump
In the back my trunk, when I am pashin' the box top the neck and
I'm practically, acting the Hagrid the wizard with words
And I'm witty, and wicked, when thinking of slurs with the dick in the nerves, they be earthin' the person who's fixing the spurt
But I'm back with the blood, body's I'm stackin' 'em up, like [?]
Kicking the dirt, baggin' 'em up with the zipper 'n' [?]
[?]
And Lincoln's occur when I'm taking bitch to the curb, girls, [?]
When I be heard when you fuckin' with the number one in the world
What?! I said I'm one in the world, I think I'm turning the pearl
There's not another [?] upon this and one's that's the devil
There's someone in heaven, I'm nothin' but revvin'
I'm stuck and the devil I'm turnin' to Ebony Sauce as well [?]
Pungent not back in the wreck, it'll get me to hurl
'Cause I'm sick and sadistic, bitch, I'm freakin' wicked
Mercilessness, Perseus and Hercules, when I murderin' beats
So fucking mythic, see me and futuristic syphilitic in rhythmic
Until the track is cataclysmic, check the statistic
These other rappers are like pigs and lipstick they're too simplistic
Dogs spit more prolific, I'm a terrific rap musician, wait, magician
The way I twist these linguistics is borderline horrific it's not logistic
Or realistic the basis of limits within our universe is not existing
When I do a verse I'm past the point of astrophysics
I'm just a glitch in the system, listen I'm cryptic wisdom
Without delivering an amount of mission
To use the power dealt in hand, my words can melt like gas [?]
Alcatraz, I spit lighting when rapping and leave behind the thunder
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