I go David Blaine on an eighth
Make it levitate in the blink of an eye before it vanish away
Standards of DeY known to knock your socks off
I hit hard as five foot tribal hunters shooting blow darts
& Pick apart mics looking to vitally puncture the tires
To the clown car packed with whack artists sounding the same
Four bars from me's pebbles in your gas tank
Or using two stroke fluid for your 3k oil replace
Impossible to phase, rock a LaVar Ball poker face
And t-800 arms for nonstop poetry
On top of your noggin hopefully
My whole goals to make it not obvious what I mean when I speak
A doosie wrapped in a doobie, rapped on a cool beat
Savagely cruising on any track and set records half snoozin
Amusing to think you'd stand a chance at bashing my music
I'm bad to the bone with connecting words fluent, pure shooting
Stojac, sure shot, King of anti-writers block
Shine like Bibby's bald nog in a purp caused fog
I've been grinding check my work log
My first solo project was a months worth of goofing off
Equipped with Frotto feet, Joe Rogan speech
And Larry B. ice cold delivery
Going Garry C. you dont feel this?
Pshh whatchu talking about
Well-its my life I dont give a hoot about opinions
I'm boosting my own image ignoring a negative critic
Flourishing like Spring Petunias you can't stop the sons movement
Run congruent, lunge with Manute Bol strides
And McGuyver mics to hype any genre-specific crowd type
Rowdy Roddy with the pipe I brought a stout to a gun fight
Dark foamy sauce be my MC Bowie Knife
My Call of Duty's to cause riots live
By scribing with the tool that spews ink when pressures applied