pilot

time to step up lol

 

within a plane of motion, spilling a plain emotion,

to my cartilage to massacre all these painful opposers,

this is my pilot, and I'm piling all these in the ocean,

spitting that flow soft like buttered-up oils and some lotions-

my mind is a canvas, carving my future to an extent,

Til I press all the types of wordplay to confess n' to address,

to a lyrical execution to offend, and defense against the end.

when i write these writtens, i combine einstien's mind with science fiction,

to make a spitting for a litter-killing, when applying friction,

im applied to sicken all these types of flow, the mic is whole,

so i can mould a musical-retribution,

im still on the lyrical-execution to electrocute the set-in Noumea.

spitting that flow so lethal onto my cerebal,

im caged in the rage, so i am evil.

 

wassup rappad