Sweet Sixteen

Pass me 'da microphone cause I'm bout to psycho-foam,

I spit 'ja wet flow, underground seas, i fucks with hydrophones,

Feel my jet blow, blunder sound streams of dino-clones,

I cause 'da calm of ya brains in ease, like indigo, I hypo-domes,

I'm a drone in the stage's wars of stars, shootin' caps,

Navigatin' every MC precisely, like a fuedin' map,

Destroyin' the rhymes in expiry by these troopin' raps,

I be coopin' ass like a pervert on a hard droopin' fap,

Come to me, and it's likely that you leave in pain,

My insane rhymes dryly murder wildly n' tightly,

Landin' the cherry of flow on it slightly,

So timely, these rappers hold my reign up highly,

So finally rest in peace in the grave of shame,

No ceasin' the chain of shame, cause you're a slave in the game,

Strained tattoos of my bars on ya ankles lane,

Nothin' but a battyboy that bends for dove in an angle frame,