[Verse 1: Pruven]
Hurricane kick to the dome, black belt Jones
Jim Kelly thrown on Black Exploitation
Career evaporation. Been abused, no
Penny [?]
Apprehensive rapper’s sensitive spiritual limited
Scarred, then that’s the end of. Spitting the pure evidence
Thunder. The war is on [?]
In the sky are visionary storms, a plague of the norm
Overshadowed by those who will perform
Sip a beer to the face, run four miles anyway
Medication: haze, ceremonies of craze
The afro pick your girl’s plastic. I
Sit and spit conscious with [?]. Virus de-
-trimental, slave hypocritical, stay hating
Shotgun [?], blessing left
Ya, the police will always frame ya, Net-
-flix, Making a Murderer. True they’ll jail you
For something you didn’t do. Is it real to see or a conspiracy?

[Verse 2: Vast Aire]
I’m an old-school cat, right-handed, south-
-paw. You’re late with the scratch? Cat
Claw. Now your face is torn up—that’s an eye-
-sore. There’s so many layers—I am
The core, destroy them with raw hymns
I’ma make you feel small like Hank Pym
All you need to know is my team is gonna win
You could tell my plan’s foul from my grin
My favorite element is the wind
And all I got to do is say when
Prism, Triple-7 is my kin
I’m a Crimson Guard among men
The pale men of Egypt is illusion
The black men was the first in Greece
So how you gonna do magic without speech?
And how you gonna claim pyramids with my lease?