I take tiny electrons
Watts shine in your sunset, dawn
and all the times I get slept on
My dry tipped weapon
a number 2 ballpoint pen
treacherous ink I use to fool men
It's true that we grew them and used them as fuel
Feuds stewed up over hues, get an overview
I propose a new leaf
burn it sober or brewed
kief it if you want to, just don't short it
my dome's sporting lines cooler than 92 jordans
fined and disputed in court
but I'll win the jury
when I spin the flurry of syllogism
into sturdy twines to hang the dozen with rhymes
I'm one of a kind, but I'm running behind

HOOK:
Stay strict to a tight habit
cuz I'm skipping with white rabbits
Trippin' on spiked ravenous mics
I'll choke on and bite down, opening fights
I'll dodge 'em rope-a-dope these cats and close it in five rounds

A monotonous beat or symphony I'm popping this heat
and singing three sheets to the wind diseased
with flaming arrows from Injuns robbing back riches
from ships that brought malaria and stale biscuits
dropping anchor on shale ridges my chain mail's hitched up
fist pack and ball point shiv stashed in my wrist cuff
sporting boom sticks, the indigenous are not attuned
to the raw shots of small pox and tetanus to retinas
I'm like Glover with a-Bombs, besting predators too(2)
check the polygraph the math will tell I spit true
through to the predicate
lose your sedatives they're too delicate
I rip confused settlements into their crude elements
Bruise delegates, just to prove my crew's relevant
before I trap 'em like zoo's elephants
(fuck it, you tell these kids, I'm through telling it)

HOOK

Haters get sick of this, I could give a shit
They should get a grip, when I deliver hits
Considering, they claim I rock the jibberish
Like a little kid
but fibbers get tossed headlong across the River Styx
Scalded like Icarus, wings made out of little strips
of egotistical jargon slathed(sic) in paper mache
couldn't wait for the day his physic would harden
to develop an elevator to visit the target
hit ya liver regardless, a cynic is harmless
cuz my methods of madness will rep definitive artists
I could spit more, but I'd win with my mouth closed
Chomping on hollowed out stoges grinning like Groucho