My intoxicating inoculation as a commodity is forsaken—not meant to be taken so lightly, my dependency on intellectual tendencies graciously conducts my fluency, and my terrestrial astronomy is equivalent to perpetual ambivalence to mass lobotomy...

You’re insignificant compared to the magnificent styles I bring forth with every fourth interval. You’re a satirical miracle. My lyrical vehicle drive? Observant, never swerving, energy conserving. I rhyme for days without batting these hybrid eyelids, obviously do anything to package images. My heart’s a skipping compact disc, recorded murmurs. You think I’m done but like hidden tracks I go further. I’m sarcastic, stretching elastic cataclysm—the big bang struck on the head of a match stick. The drastic apparatus whose status is practice made perfect—this mic’s my glass slipper, a Shure fit…

My terrestrial astronomy is equivalent to perpetual ambivalence to mass lobotomy, my intoxicating inoculation as a commodity is forsaken—not meant to be taken so lightly, my dependency on intellectual tendencies graciously conducts my fluency…

Fuck your white supremacy, I’m listening to Malcom, Fred Hampton and Dr. King, I’m‘a be unanimous when we’re at maximum occupancy. Truancy ain’t allowed in a crowd endowed with just one man who surrounds sound. Significantly with intricacy I solve the mysteries of the ages with sages in sweat shops working for low wages. Dry-cleaning your white sheets, I got mad pages of loose leaf scattered across my floor like leaves in fall, pictures of dead trees sapped on my wall—I wanted to climb them all, instead I fell like raindrops on parasols. Still I dissolved. I’m a waste of space and still I managed to climb up DNA’s spiral staircase…

My dependency on intellectual tendencies graciously conducts my fluency, and my terrestrial astronomy is equivalent to perpetual ambivalence to mass lobotomy. My intoxicating inoculation as a commodity is forsaken therefore not meant to be taken so lightly…

I got a fever my thermometer rises so high that Mercury takes a left at Andromeda... Hoping to fathom karma while drowsy choking on big pharma, alarming martyrs posing with photographers taking cliff’s notes like stenographers. Every line I spit is tantamount (to nothing), my rhymes are paramount. I’m wrapping the clouds in Christmas lights and blacking the city out. I wanted to get caught and they took the bait, now I’m locked down in a maximum security mix tape. It’s too late to take back my mis-takes, so I fake my death like Jesus, rise three days after short recess and resist the temptation to last by crossing my own path…

My terrestrial astronomy is equivalent to perpetual ambivalence to mass lobotomy, my dependency on intellectual tendencies graciously conducts my fluency, and my intoxicating inoculation as a commodity is forsaken—not meant to be taken so lightly…