brandish your armored garments / these bars are sparked by an arsonist, a mercenary marksman that’s a Marxist / harvest crops that murk rap markets / I get up Death’s skirt with expert excerpts Daly like Carson ‘n’ narrow tha rap margin between commercial rap pop radio sensations / I point ‘n’ squeeze my ballpoint ‘n’ annoint you pagans with my verbal hatred / I slay tainted infestations with disdain contained within my written incantations / wasted off illicit elixirs ‘n’ medications prescribed by foreign witchdoctors who don’t speak my fuckin’ language / or they might, they’re pitch Black with an extravagant Haitian accent so thick that their voicebox got ass…
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