I don't ghostwrite, but most times I write for ghosts/
I reserve the right to boast to most when a mic is close/
my eyes is cloaked in smoke, but trust my mind is woke/
strong trees behind the lines I spoke, whether pine or oak/
bloke, every rhyme I've wrote is dope, like lines of coke/
the kind you quote on the grind wit dope inside ya coat/
if any rapper contend, I end they life wit a sniper's stroke/
so don't attend, I win every battle I'm in, despite the vote/
I'll slice ya throat wit a bar so sharp it'll carve thru bark/
when I impart my darts, you won't say shit like Harpo Marx/
I'm a sharp tooth, heartless shark that starves for narcs/
roamin in the oceans' largest, most uncharted darkest parts/
so if yo ark embarks toward my ports or gulfs, I'm goin off/
flowin off the top at those who scoff or whose flow is soft/
I'm Gorbachev in eighty-eight, I'll take ya state for taking's sake/
forcefeed you planks of snake from satan's plate while ya fate awaits...
....ooooh shit, that takes the cake....
Image is everything except the truth.