@Wrathe,
About to smoke and scare some kids, so I only have time for Wrathe. I'll get with you later, Prof.
I'll blaze you like I'm in my killing phase,
then get blazed until my eyes are veiled with haze.
Wake up among celestial entities,
laughing senselessly with stolen identities.
I should be a chef, I know the perfect recipe
for world-class flows for mental remedy.
My lyrics light liquid fires like sparks,
leaving you in the ground like tire marks.
I could use you for a psychology project,
a living example of child neglect.
I'd say don't feel bad; the blame should be on your deadbeat dad.
But I don't feel sympathy for cowards roughened like shoulder pads.
Like I'm flashing down streets, I speed at a green light,
drifting at any obstacles, annihilating anyone in sight.
Learn your role and sell your soul,
I'll own your rights like gun control.
Smoke a bowl and drown some drinks,
I'm living high like I'm the Sphinx.
My flows give off chills as I write and rhapsodize;
I am a weaver and graffiti artist as I vandalize.
I'm stepping up this rap ladder like I'm a CEO.
Jokers like you belong at a cabaret show.
Terrorists seek me out like soccer moms with minivans.
I pack more heat and bombs than warfare in Pakistan.