I'm a procrastinator, planning to act later

A chronic nap-taker and chronicle narrator

A fact-stator chasing some honest rap pay-dirt

I'm a sonic blast maker, a foundation shaker

Creating a half-acre-wide impact crater

I'm a rhyme saturator, a mad saber-rattler

Afraid of his shadow, a unilateral hate-battler

A snake-handler, original gate-straddler

Balancing eight platters of words on a straight ladder

Plus, to make matters worse, surrounded by fake flatterers

Any mistakes happen just call me a plate-shatterer

Information-gathering station conductor

I'm shaken up worse than World Trade Center structures

Reluctant to say that I've just been taken upwards

By alien abductors, my face covered for days

With suction-cup clusters; there ain't enough words

To explain the pain I've suffered; my brain is ruptured

I need to be chained up and fed some plain custard

If that doesn't work, and I remain flustered

And labeled insane, then take me to shock therapy

And tell the doctors there to be careful and not bury me

And when it stops, carry me to the lobotomy chair

And keep me there until I'm cheerful as a cocky parakeet

Polly wanna shot of narcotics for thought-clarity?

My popularity drops – it's probably a conspiracy

Apparently when I talk someone at the top's scared of me

I'm not paranoid; don't offer me charity

I don't want steroids; my body is very weak

I only shave my hairy cheeks once every week

And I can barely speak, my throat is so dry

It's no surprise though; I've been high my whole life

So I go try to flow nice at shows and it's no dice

And most nights I ghost-write lyrics to cold light

And grow spiteful of my previous oversights

As greedy as cobras’ bites when I hold this mic

Obese, dressed in vertical-striped Obelix tights

Beats like these might backfire like motorbikes

And catch fire, shoulder spikes and fat tires

I'm a bad liar, a critic satisfier

Turning higher learning into passionate desire

So hook this black wire to the amplifier

And get blasted by a verbal crack supplier

To the buyer: I never criticize a rap addict's cries

I give 'em safe injection sites to protect their rights

But I'll make 'em sweat tonight, and exercise

To inject some excitement into stressed-out lives

It’s like all depression gets left outside

As I bless the mic and leave the rest how it lies