[Verse 1]
I try to rest, but the battle cries they irk me
Well, certainly, the rappers of man provoke me to anger
Slowly surely, he said, “can I be?”
“But master, the children emcees have grown somewhat foul and unhumble
To your style of royal offering"
They said, “since your sister passing, well, they kinda said ya softened”
(What?) Hahahahaha, nonsense
Don’t rest in the conscious, I plead for peace
I’ll dispense, you’ll see
Read the magazines, they can’t help but mention me
“But sire, I uh, all hail greatness,” as he shakes his fist
They even seduced your girl
Deceived her, made her a part of their world
And he grabs his forearms and breaks his wrists
What, what is this nonsense?
Send a letter to my brothers
We’re dying, drink wine, [?] one another
Though inside, though I know staring out my window
They have lost some sense of respect
“Wait, servant, hand me my sword”
Ungrateful bastard, tonight I place my blade upon their necks

[Verse 2]
I woke upside like a horse on his hinds
Holding a cross to the sky, divine force when it rhymes
Tongue switchblade go every which way
You bitch-made, pick your grave
Kick you in the pit like Leonidas
Writers, true fighters, saliva produce fire
The oxygen make the juice through the wire
And the true writer about to get loose when the mic’s clutched
The mic ignites from friction caused by the components of more diction
The writer absorbs, begins spitting
Heads roll when the sword is risen
They’re put to bed by the mortician
Scorching the wack rappers, the axe grabber
Lyric beats your brains, the jackhammer
Prepare for disaster
Style will trap ya, blast ya
My pen massacres whole cities like Dracula
The blood glutton is going for the gut
Then let it spill out his stomach
More omens coming
Big feet, big shoes, I’m ‘bout to roam in something