Aesthetics in my finger
I express; I imply,
I am your response; you're the stimuli

Brothas' think that it's a game until the spikes come out
I already have a name, my creators are to blame
One paradigm is that the rhyme is a commandment

Magical components, natural enchantment
Do not tamper with the rhythm, or you will break my vision
Each line - universal truths like aphorisms

Just a humble man in the middle of a battle
I keep my composure, no convulsions like a rattle
Now, as I was sayin' better yet, lecturing

Make a choice: left? Right?
I'm close to centerin', $#&@ a !@#$ critic
I'm my worst cynic, the news goes around and it spreads like acrylics

That I lack skills or I'm full to the finish
Not so much about skills to kill an emcee
Need to think before I prey, third degree sins

Burn like soap in ya' eyes, leave you blinkin' and thinkin' twice about the deed you conspired
Call the CIA to complain ($#&@ em'...) your phone's been wired
Or perhaps I'm buggin' out like 2Pac with two Glocks

Different zones, like I have two clocks
Like I have two clocks...
Yeah...