*scratch in - I aint hardcore I dont pack a Nine millimetre - scratch out*
*scratch in - Most of yall gangsta rappers aint hardcore neither* scratch out*
Spartan techniques, a gladiator to the bone,
navigator to aggitators track the ways Im shown,
fractions of factions couldnt be heavier distractions,
but in fact son, Im lackin traction in my actions,
Im pacin back and forth, to find the final solutions,
improvin mixture confusion, illusions in my conclusion,
Intrusion constitutes delusion, in its spinal fusion,
Final resolution, take control of your cerebral,
imperial people are decietful when they great you,
defeat you is in there brain, fatal mind collisions,
improvisons show mal nutrishion in traditions,
binary fission, real visions of my mind state,
incline great, keep twistin untill some spines break,
I thank them, for placin me in my inner sanctum,
Takin time for myself, infinite skills one possesses,
stresses impress the guests as I infest this,
bless the mic with flow once I claim fortune,
extortion of absorbsion in the money auction,
stoppin shows for .Stats. haunts the stage,
taunts with rage the emcees I wish to stomp and claim,
spawn my fame, Im on the game, but I dont Want it,
I was shawn it, but my destiny its mine to spit on it,
The life lesson for me is to never choose the fame,
bruise my name but I will never let money fool my brain,
stain the pages with my mystical invisible ink,
transitional stages, and my ambitons will sink.
think of the days back when we was grace,
face the discrace of tracing hip hops waste,
recycling great emcees, just to awake fakes,
It takes a mind of knowledge to understand my logic,
money is an object, and death is the topic for your optic.