Your rhymes are so pussy I could make them fucking climax

My mixed verbal arts are on attack

My microphone's a metaphor for an oral receptor

Come forth in awe, see my convex vector

The bulge on the top of my recording unit

To spit the rhythm too quick is too sick

Everywhere in this verse is a euphemism

And all the words have truth within em

They lube up the booming rhythm

Please don't be an assuming system

Before you get immersed, know first about the worst curse on a verse

Um...

I fucked up the words there, sorry, mate

It's hard to contemplate and enunciate

All the phraseology so here's my apology

You can't come through to me if all ya wanna do is screw with me

Badadada, I'm the palaver grappler

I got the skill and force to match ya

There's no doubt I own you, meaning I'm a taxpayer

I write my bars with my arms, verbal armbar

Your producer's tapping over the play button over and over

Cause all your pussy rhymes are in submission

When I spit the rhythm, kick ill composition

Break hearts with all the women

Spirit breaking and deceiving

I'll be receiving a bunch of people believing

Because I started off non profit but now I'm worshipped as a prophet

I gotta tell a fella "That's my dick, now get off it"

That's what ya heard, play on words, son, they be absurd

I'm funky with the word, the adjective and the adverb

Flex this and wreck this with my lexis

Cause the best is the nexus that connects this to Texas

We do a bit of grappling, trying to get position

I'm the main event of this particular exhibition

Here comes a hip toss heavier than Rick Ross

My mixed verbal arts are boss, you've already lost

My scarf hold will keep you warm this harsh winter

And then I'll find your girl and loosen up her sphincter

Side control is like a mould for what I'm going to do next

Triangle to the neck or a dead-lift German suplex?

Suddenly getting into mount

U wot

So quick your brain doesn't recognize it or account

I make the women hypnotized with my real crook, bold talk

I make the fellas paralyzed with my heel hook and mohawk

With my sick rhymes, they're on the dick all the time, no issue

Tighter than the style on a black belt in jiu jitsu

Grappling a gentle pace unlike the hook that will hit you