We getting' ready, to start the setIt's clockwork, got work
Put it in like doctors with awkwardness
Mopped your whole flock up
And walked toward ya
Scattered all up on the chalkboard
Socrates self is thoughtless
From farmers to Metropolis
I get these process all twisted
Form mental visual optics
My job description rock wiz
Clock ticks
I'm toxic giving oxygen to the thoughtless
Intoxicant knocking the planet off it's axis
Like oxes chappin(?)
Boxing compin (?) it up out though
Peepin it loose
Seeped in to you
Begin in to the
MC is what I be about though
The freshest widow without though
I can outflow
Any little doubt
Your little mouth throw out so
Take it out though
So I'm a gardener
I'm a chef eatin all you carnivores
I'm an ancient Zen master philosophic thought
Comin like the Art of War
Handyman with lyrical hardware
And my house ain't made a ginger
But its made of an array of pages that'll slay ya like a ninja
Unemployed, no, I got work
And my job description
A rap technician
From sun up to sun down
And it's clockwork
Can you understand?
Every beat be made with sucker DJ's plus scissors and tapeCan you understand?
Lyrics that I write will put you in sound out of sightCan you understand?
Master of scratching yes is he the one slippin
Or is he the real captain?Can you understand?
The way we rock keep runnin for a record around the clockGrabbin the mic and unravelin with
The force of a javelin hit
Travelin Gift of Gab and I'm it
MC's are havin a fit
A man and a myth with a hat of magical tricks stored in my cabina-ne
Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.
