(DJ Qvali scratches)
Verse One:
I shine smoothly with mind jewelry that becomes a sacred find to the streets
Plus, I’m not fond of time doing me
Glide through these beats, blasting the Tom Foolery
Jokers get wild on the idiot box, I’m taming you con’s coonery
Peanut-brained niggaz aim to fill space in the gallery
Of music, true shit, I won’t be wasting my salary
On useless proclosers* in nooses
That choose to boost the amusement fused with illusions
Niggaz press up their weak tapes to rule the fastest route
I wish I lived in a bubble so I can tune your asses out
Artistically, you phony MF’in’ rappers (are) doomed
‘Cause y’all put more emphasis on crabby poon than crafting tunes
Scams are bigger than building fonds
Rhyming morticians can’t withstand this fierce cremation; fake reporters get killed in slums
And, still, live wires are reduced to faint vitals
Though tortures are just display items, ducks panic like late cycles
The level I be on, I’ll mash cats for eons
Plus, I run with veterans and bypass these peons
That extract crap that slips through dentals
With lack vocal projections, your cypher’s a haphazard instrumental
Saps acting presidential; I’ll flash raps that rip and injure
Then, outlast crabs in this agenda
Barks are thunderous, yet too frail when facing disturbance
Godly wrath’s abolishing your atheist sermons

(DJ Qvali scratches)

Verse Two:
The effects of hearing your recordings
Are equal to mixtures of Oxycodone, NyQuil, and extreme boredom
So, miss me with that sales pitch ‘bout how your clans rip
While you was jackin’ your sister’s crayons, these scriptures was engraved in Sanskrit
Once the samp(le)’s flipped, I’ll supply the audio vaccination
That brings hope to your hapless nation
Hometown heroes reach the Zenith with crappy sequence
I’d get better fulfillment with dumpster leakage
Stupid fucks follow Twitter chaos just to get a lift up
Then, crash and burn harder than suicidal drifters
Just to stay clear, it’s time to raise the stakes here
Halt your work like AIDS scare in porn and change your Candy Land to Cape Fear
Bump that, loudmouth adversaries
Trespass into this booth will enter the realms of Pet Cemetery
Change your livest shows into a practice scene
‘Cause ain’t nothing sweet or super ‘bout your wack 16’s
Feel my fire faster than serpents of sinning
I see red (C-Red) with a bloodthirsty appetite; I stay working and winning
They called up Derm for the blitzing on the herbs of the business
One light breath would wipe out your further existence with jerks out position
Before the day starts, I’ll salute that positive force
For dangers that stain your souls as if you’re sliding in whores
While niggaz boast on how they work tracks, but driving off course
Then, got your empires sinking like Poseidon, of course
Derm reign champion when I collide in this war
As I stay in heads and nerves like a violent divorce
WHAT!!!

*proclosers – port manteau of the words procrastinators and losers*