Just a Fellow Marauder

Yo my style is abstract clear ears heres a Q-Tip

Duck and Aflac fear in his peer with sick flu spit

Im piloting hip hop after a 5th of vodka in the cockpit

On some Rakim, Tribe, Big, Kane, Pun, Em, and pac shit

Put thorough breds in the toaster till nice and crispy

Serve em with my bowl of lead mixed with rice krispies

How else you suppose i spit .50 cal's within my cold saliva

Throw me in a pit with all my competitors sole surviva

Got the eye of tiger, spit of cobra, form of a dragon

latin assassin bustin off like a forty-four fuckin magnum

You panic cause you cant stand it the literature of me

So manic, a rampant rant a signature of the

Pale faced monster, punchlines of a boxer

A rocket launcher about to rock it proper

Clouded died years ago im just his imposter

Conjure your fears kill your parents become your foster