So make way

I got the key controlled, Dikembe wave

My name’s DeY

I autopilot hybrids to jot with a v-8

Popping like Don Perignon shaken for fifty five days

Yippee-ki-yay the tie-dye mad flavor

Cyanide line creator

I annihilate paper

Need to write on rock walls like a tribe

Otherwise there’s no saving the data

I be the human baked potater

Stuffing doinks up in my nasal

Like it’s Charmin for a bloody haymaker

Eerie Superior Great Lake body material

Pay rate stay zero for pumping gold out your speakers

Meanwhile dudes’ll get a buck if they summon a demon

Chugging goat blood and marking death on a once loved being

I’m all seeing, activation completed

Swallowed a whole bottle of red pills in my moms fetus

The final answer

But I’m not talking to Regis

Cause six figures represents piranha’s and leeches

All I need is a constant head-bob and your mental focus

Stunning crowds like the tear gas from the all black soldiers

Hard to follow like an augmented Hayabusa’s motion

Or an auctioneer reading the script of Quantum Solace

Pip Doughnut small

Buck twenty something but the flavor enormous

The gourmet chef cooking herbs with no chorus

My core is a molten golden constantly forging reflection of Portland

Raweed Wallace Trailblazing Timbers to my organs

Remain amorphous, liquid swordsmith

Pif-forged corpus

Thick as Berenstein porridge

Doinks enormous stuffed in my sniffer

Gosh darn ocular disabled

Theme song should be a mix of Steve Wonder and 36 Chambers

The fun bringer

Burgundy hooptie swanger

Half master of ceremony

Half chapter painter

Baffle the brain, crash plain thoughts get Cast Away

Grapple dank at savage rates and casually make the hips swing

Unlimited range I feel like Bob Lee Swagger

Aim at any genre crowd and kill the reasonable doubters

If you wanna rendezvous

I’m furly ghosting in the romper room

Chopping rugs and cutting carpets going dumb to Sacred tunes

Youth consisted of Mac Dre and Led Zeppelin grooves

Parents rock and rolled and school got the bay slap infused

Word to Shane Dye I sharpshoot

Archive jargon

Yanking from days of rocking Puka shells & a Shark tooth

Keeping it smooth as jungle juice in a carved fruit

Comic font, Kaboom

Run congruent with the midget caboose that could

I reach the peak and laugh

Attach wings and flap

Chaos theory couldn’t hinder my plan

So try to sabotage

I booby trapped the tracks in the DAW

Gallons of sauce and liquid magma what my pen draw

A counterfeiter’s nightmare since sitting in a high chair

I watermark with energy

So physically it won’t appear