Blessing time and describing my stature with rap
Can help me capture what I'm after;
With freedom of speech; speaking at will
Don't take it all literal. Damn, seek it at will

It's freaky shit's not perpetual reality
Sneaky since I jot the text in full scrabbling;
Clutching Hip Hop to express myself, what I'm around, from others view even the world. Rap legends teach me how

I'm speaking out on beats to drop complex blots, equinoxes, speech to jot songs
Next plottin; seeking thoughts
Keep the props it tests ya mind

As sporadic as a metronome...
As sporadic as a metronome I flash my passion
Depths are shown; Mics grasped
I rap it best when flowin; Spitting gasping seconds slowing

Track my path; it's perplexed; it's shown
With written raps, it's best I show 'em that pacing it's like relationships; "Not Proactiv enough."

Facing it's "Throwbacks" in a flush, cold flashes in flux; hot in volume
Displaced in switches like it's Santa Rita but never fashioning cuffs to this music

I stay Universal like I'm French, Japanese, African, European, Asian, American, Canadian, South American, Australian... Shit...
Any Continent. They can get some
I state message Prints; it's bold
I might break to stress it
If it's shown rate most methods thinking
Knowing this is life; check it pics are shown like this a poem

Past rhymes and thesaurus I wrote a trip down memory lane
Most spit rounds offending my brain they seem to depend to be same. Cool not me. Now I don't pack a tool no not needed

Imagine life with no violence and peace and school through teachers with tools who educate bout crews feuds, posses and thugs. Street knowledge and corporation knowledge

With speakers I'm Booth couth. Scholastic history is redundant. Snoop profusely or lose to it. For every race and generation I'm corroding this mic

Generating positive energy
Paced and it's supposed to be nice like Ice Cube saying nice things angrily
You can't hang with me. Tony Hawk

No label Can classify me but I provoke to learn though
Never claim trend or style to suit. Reminders to boot; when my master thesis was aligned; it's the rules
So foul action without mind isn't cool

This is a master thesis letter to the rap game, Part two