| «Using his axe, the executioner of worlds and at fantastic speed
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| Creating a blinding, spinning vortex, and Jane Foster is hurled
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| Into limbo, trapped in the misty shadows, of a nowhere world.»
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| I launch a pencil through your central ventricle
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| With tendrils and tentacles makin you a mental vegetable
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| Biochemical, malpractice
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| Mental sentinel known as Galactus, rippin through the whackness
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| My molecular, structure, your nebula
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| Implode your lymph nodes through prototype replicas
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| I’ll smash your articles to particles, rap styles remarkable
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| Words orbital, towards your cortical
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| Programmed to rock, optic site panels flowin
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| I’m triple majored in: astrophysics, rocket science and spot blowin
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| Comprehension is critical
|
| My mental to digital sendin venemous visuals as reciprocals
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| I reverse your retinas
|
| Take a look from within, Shay locks jaws like tetanus
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| Optic paralysis, robo like Super Valkyrie
|
| My verbal alchemy blows you off the balcony
|
| I rock metaphors from here to Endor
|
| And stomp Ewok MC’s like an AT-ST
|
| T-X three-zero-nine is Esoteric
|
| The Rebel Alliance medic kinetically wreckin genetics
|
| Thrust my usable, 10 percent of brain to the maximum
|
| It’s oozing out your audio like chewing mental laxatives
|
| But wait, for Beyond what you notice as conception
|
| I reverse digitize all my lazy eye contractions
|
| Through factions of London forces have me fallin down
|
| Dispersion of induced psychos and compounds, now
|
| MC’s can’t fuck with these Godly complexities
|
| You know damn sure Beyonder thrashed the verbal section of his SAT’s
|
| You drowning in half-empty glasses of cynical
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| Lyric pumped from mic cords put in place of my umbilical
|
| See now I’m bonding to this bullshit that I’m hearing
|
| But to four fantastic kids that forming you is symbionic beings
|
| Hidden from inter-molecular authors
|
| Whack-ass wax falls to it’s knees like my girl Gwen Stacy’s father
|
| Don’t bother with mental power to withstand
|
| For lashing you be 36 megahertz and 6M megs of RAM
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| Plus a tech wiz hard drive, that’s compatible with Windows
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| With a fat CPU, incubated in two test tubes
|
| If you had that hardware, wreck more certainly would your third iris
|
| But I’d infiltrate your floppies and download this simple virus
|
| «With this before me, I become master of all mankind.»
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| «I have given you master of the 30th century, and so evil one
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| I am free of my vow.» |