[Verse: Qwel]

For the hell of it, you spit irrelevant delicate flows, speak child

Intelligent, mellow shit kills fellowships bellowing freestyles

Smile, punchlines can crush the spines of the skeptics

Perfection stepped in, three guesses who the best is

Check it, check it, hello, hello

Yo, yo, I am, I ams dumb, dumb

Can, can Qwel, Qwel rock, rock?

Well, well, um, um

Fear, fears, kids, kids

Cans, cans spray paint now, now

Look out below, where's that flow you were shoutin' 'bout so loud?

Crush flows, a mud slides

I’m ‘Ha-Ha’– that raw with punchlines

Funny like when a thug's son dies at moonrise, I'm sunshine

Echoes in graveyards are speakin' of us (Speakin' of us, speakin' of us)

Seekin to touch those rainbow demons breathin' beneath graffiti buffs

Feed the needy, fucking bleeding down the side of silver snakes

Hollering a hollow save god, dollars in graveyards fill your graves

Listen through submission and sadistic cultures

And demon's guns surround our sons like Copernicus-tic vultures

Soldier’s clothed in gold and swollen souls in carcass hearses

Curse in first-person and search for serpents in our verses

Your crew bleeds too profusely who gave groupies loose leaf

Standing over the remains of a slain fifth-grade classmate who's got cooties

Excuse me, emcees, pretending not to envy me

But readily sending me these seas of frenzied centipedes

Motherfuckers lack intensity and can't rhyme either

I see words, split 'em in twice with reverbs, become a believer

You blow like you're Pop Rocks with 3 liters, the shit's on

Snap your fat lackin' tracks in half, mine are big-boned

These styles be free, Qwel sees above weak emcees

Decibel levels and infinitesimal testicle jokes

Investin' and broke for lines, not as dope as mine

Needs work, rehearse your speech slurs, I won like three thirds

Censor the census, on my five senses and unisex the mutants

'Till the glitches in my wrist digits salute the richest human

The worst heard, herbal verbalist

My thirst for herbs further disturbs this itch

Servin' kids track, tourniquets

Smashin' furnishings after class

With the get in your ass pass, rappin' backwards

Askin' for herb and the last laugh, laugh