Cats don't want to see me looking for the remote

I blast them off screen like a game when you reload

I jump through the TV, hook 'em with the steelo

Attract the offbeam, insane with the repo

I'm puffing Ls with the L of steel in my rear pocket

And pop it in the crowd when I rock it

Feeling dirty cause you wanna watch it

Then feeling nerdy cause you wanna cop it

Then hop the train when the wagon is attached to the back

Then laugh at the assholes who backtrack

For tracks I made back when I was wack

Tell 'em, and give 'em hell when I sell 'em

The fake fame cause I'll be the name that they're yelling

As I gel with my felons in the hell cellar

These new dudes want the 101 like de Vil Cruella

I'm a good fella, I used to shine shoes

Now I make tunes for dudes that snooze in the afternoons

Yeah this is for my thinkers

Not necessarily the type to wake up in the morning for the reefer

Cats better smell the Folgers before I fold ya

Like old clothes, get empty pockets and a broke nose

I'm the equivalent to licking your elbows

Or sniffing them pale rose or stripping on Melrose

Cause I'm an impossible rush of identity

Lending me my aesthetics for the credit of bettering me

And as the fat lady sings, I'm still in the ring

Stinging like a smack from your upbringing

Tweet that, and let your homey see that

They need a recap of the G that

Knows where to draw the line like a G-strap

And the proper place to put it is erase it

Fuck boundaries, let your mind roam and lace it

The rhyme zone is wasted on the cats getting basted

With the straight edge retraced it, replaced it where I erased it

Man you're fucking up my progress

Cause you don't wanna admit you're falling off like a prom dress

You're just a rhyming zombie who vomits embalming

Went from romping pompous to common psalms

I'm honest when I talk this, most vets have nothing left to promise

But a nostalgia harvest for carcases

Bargained by the targets that get split like wigs made of shag carpet

Can't spark it with the marks that's a bad market

Promising that this rap shite is a part of me

I'm baptized in an army of sliced arteries

And re-emerging as a spiritual virgin

Lyrical purging, got both our pinnacles merged in

Ventricle murking, might need a medical surgeon

On our roster to get the monster's tentacles working

The dark horsemen are marked by the corpses

Endorsed by the damage we plan to set our course in

Stacking corpses