Elohim

Good Sir, I do believe you just scuffed my newly shined shoes.

You villainous bastard, you will pay for your sins against my God.

 

Time lapse, mind lacking a proper syntax, pens snap.

I've been gone, but I've been back, no time to relapse.

You demand me to react to your attacks, but they're so inexact;

allow me to reenact the lack of impact of your sad raps.

Instead of feeling mad, I'm feeling glad,

'cause honestly I doubt you have plan.

Rats traps at the back of the flat cap, asshat, my land is mapped.

You yak at the Mad Max mac, in hope of getting your sad ass a pat.

When your foe's mind is so abstract and yet so relaxed,

the venom you spit is overtaxed,

you step to me, and your life'll be over fast.

Your producer ain't producing shit,

I don't think anyone's even heard that fat faggot brat clap.

Fat cats following the fads with the snapback caps,

wack fact is that you fags act brash;

when you more than likely didn't have a dad.

So, cut the scat and stomp the tit tat, you silly quack.

I'm the repo man armed with an axe,

my sole job here is to take rap back,

and if you think you're a myth, you're more than likely right,

'cause so far, I ain't seen crap.