(intro)
I've been recovering from a sickness as of recording this
I'm not a rapper

Verse 1:
Saliva daggers missing that's a logical fallacy
Making moves like burning calories, comets raising casulties
Swinging raw talent knocks you off the equilibrium
Entropy in disarry, causing chaos anyday
The clouds are where my mind stay but this ain't the final "fantasay"
Chopping busters with swords equip the black materia
Skating over rappers like flatground material, my sound is real
Wearing sweatshirts posted on the corner, coasting on the former
Commencing sieges like attacking border
Leagues in hyperspace the type to heed and type described as non-hedonistic
Curb stomp till the teeth is missing
That's how i see it my vision is realistic
Lvl 1 alread got bodies you can't not trip over sick trick holder
Organized like a new folder, jones' boulder truck smack rapper with my skinny shoulder
Rock a murder jacket spitting grimey out the window my crescendo's only the start
Doing numbers on the shindo, i burnt my finger trying to figure out the way the wind blows
Power increasing tenfold, always standing ten-toed
Slabs of diamonds where the pen goes
The soul punisher, sole plunderer making heads roll
Making motion heat blowing never down the tempo
Competition's nonexistent turn around and head home
Flowing like a lotus flower flying in the cosmos
Culprit of tragedies heavier than when you dropping toast
Shot the most, electryifying when i drone and shock
R2 l1 backwards the combat when i throw and block