| Here to manhandle your medulla
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| I use the sonic waves transmitted through the
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| Speaker cones
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| Thus weaker tones get decimated
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| Gaze upon my image and you’ll see who the magistrate is
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| Aggravated rhythms react on vocal contact
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| Syncopated with the syntax of brain synapses
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| Perhaps its time to pen a rhyme
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| Spread lines on a regulation sheet
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| And lay heat
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| The completed process can be heard throughout my catalog
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| Expansive dialogue
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| Composed prose compressed
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| Into the best format suited for digital distro
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| We make it official
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| When we send you the signal
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| Receive it
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| Convert it
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| Insert it inside your player
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| Now your ears are under siege
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| Surrender to the data slayer
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| Penetrating all layers of resistance
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| And persecuting purveyors of ignorance
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| Their destruction is imminent
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| I’m like genocide on the beat
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| Killing it
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| Slaying all around
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| Dead data on the ground
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| Wide makeshift morgue for fatalities
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| I’m filling it
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| Lay the music down
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| Some seventy-two inches underground
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| Fertilizing the soil from which I procreate
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| Photosynthesizing ultraviolet sawtooths
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| Want proof?
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| Let me demonstrate my sonic prowess
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| Like a stack of Marshalls battling a single flautist
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| My sound commands power
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| And will drown and devour
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| Any brown nose biter
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| I clown foes and tower
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| Above
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| Like a satellite
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| Fools wanna ride the beat
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| Ain’t even on the saddle right
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| Steady floating in circles cause all they do is paddle right
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| Slave to the sound waves
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| Cognitive lights out with no lighthouse
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| To guide
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| Our metaphoric bandwagon on water
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| That’s why I’ve come to slaughter unauthenticated authors |