I go David Blaine on an eighth

Make it levitate in the blink of an eye before it vanish away

Standards of DeY known to knock your socks off

I hit hard as five foot tribal hunters shooting blow darts

& Pick apart mics looking to vitally puncture the tires

To the clown car packed with whack artists sounding the same

Four bars from me's pebbles in your gas tank

Or using two stroke fluid for your 3k oil replace

Impossible to phase, rock a LaVar Ball poker face

And t-800 arms for nonstop poetry

On top of your noggin hopefully

My whole goals to make it not obvious what I mean when I speak

A doosie wrapped in a doobie, rapped on a cool beat

Savagely cruising on any track and set records half snoozin

Amusing to think you'd stand a chance at bashing my music

I'm bad to the bone with connecting words fluent, pure shooting

Stojac, sure shot, King of anti-writers block

Shine like Bibby's bald nog in a purp caused fog

I've been grinding check my work log

My first solo project was a months worth of goofing off

Equipped with Frotto feet, Joe Rogan speech

And Larry B. ice cold delivery

Going Garry C. you dont feel this?

Pshh whatchu talking about

Well-its my life I dont give a hoot about opinions

I'm boosting my own image ignoring a negative critic

Flourishing like Spring Petunias you can't stop the sons movement

Run congruent, lunge with Manute Bol strides

And McGuyver mics to hype any genre-specific crowd type

Rowdy Roddy with the pipe I brought a stout to a gun fight

Dark foamy sauce be my MC Bowie Knife

My Call of Duty's to cause riots live

By scribing with the tool that spews ink when pressures applied