| Yo, check check
|
| Yo, yo
|
| Breakin' down a rhyme pattern like they did to the atom
|
| I hear a break like your leg when it starts snapping
|
| Back rolls strapping like Mazuki’s got cracking
|
| Drum’s banging like your head in a door, slamming
|
| Stop the sound you’re putting out like the waves jamming
|
| They shout clear, the crowd, like your career’s crash landing
|
| Fuck a has been, me and Jack are overcasting
|
| Progressive modes even move forward in a back spin
|
| The best dutch ain’t enough to be matching
|
| The heavy stone more consistent than the metronome
|
| Walking through the danger zone, they ain’t my friends like
|
| Numbers on the strangest phone, were raised and grown
|
| I bring the ship back home, to Boom Bap son
|
| The belly got a shot like the end of a cap gun
|
| No need for action, you’re cut from the scene
|
| With open eyes in the dream
|
| R.L.D is the team, is the team… mother fucker
|
| Over the beat when the sun shines through
|
| Through the darkness these rhymes stay true
|
| Over the beat when the mind shines through
|
| Through the darkness I always stay true
|
| At high altitude, smoking the hash ganja zoot
|
| I zone out, travel through portals like Crash Bandicoot
|
| Eject the seat, jetpack attached to a slashed parachute
|
| Paranoid, para-true
|
| Mix Absolut and apple juice
|
| FUI pilot, I’m flying under the influence
|
| Pyromaniac writer, lighting fire to instruments
|
| Inscribing with writing implements
|
| Describing incidents, defining insolence
|
| In my rhyming, try to hide my ignorance
|
| In my own twisted vision of reality
|
| Magical like I studied a wizardry academy
|
| Puffing cannabis, hanging like a picture in a gallery
|
| Working all night, but I ain’t putting a shifting in the factory
|
| Listen, I got higher skills, I practice at spittin'
|
| Say my name I turn to Bryan Mills and track your position
|
| Exact with precision, we’re taking out a wack opposition
|
| Honest rhymes I never compromise my standard of living |