my sword swings, I been snortiní things since I was 14, Iím so phat Iím lean, I rob crabs 'ní put Ďem on smash with flattery / so verbose I hand out verbal battery, MCs holdiní mics with bayonets get stabbed by me / most lack tha tenacity to grasp even halfa these vocal assault tactics I unhatch cuz of their mental apathy / their cabbages suffer from atrophies, I laugh at tragedies cuz otherwise all Iíd do is weep pathetically / lookiní for pathos, haviní unwanted children cuz you lack to wear tha raincoat, smokiní cocaine cut with Draino, to keep my throat clean / a true dopefiend, watch my nosebleed, cuz I sniff every last dollar of tha fuckiní proceeds / focusing on plagues of locusts, brought upon tha Roman heathens when I spoke with priests that preach about a broken Jesus / Twisted, my penis, thick as oak trees, I blow trees, sharper than razor wire, stayin' wired on tha low key / change my name to Kilo cuz nobodyís as dope as me, even without tha norepinephrine or tha dopamine / corporeal exportiní endorphins, black orchids represent MCs shorted by tha cordless / thereís no father to my steez, Iím an orphan, I spit vivid portraits Ďní to believe most of my skill is dormant / only courts can judge me lord, at least upon tha physical, my nickel-gleam thoughts fire ire like pistols / your rhymes is pointless like menís nipples, Iím a literal liberal literary Olympian Ďní any 1 of Scienceís rhymes is handpickable / grams is sniffable, flash those grands, your life is kickable, you with tha mic is criminal, work with tha pen, your pitiful / lemme get conscious with some political, Iíll George Zimmerman you with a Intertech loaded with 3-3 time verbal minuets / I leave leaflets upset in need of time to catch their breath, I think my penís got Touretteís, my ruffneck rough drafts fuck the internet / I smoke Marlboro Light cigarettes Ďní I burrow knives in ninjazí necks with my eyes crossed like a intersection / Rick Ross Ďní JayZ are bitches just like Kanye West is, so is Kendrick, they couldnít spit 16 even if I penned it / Iím in tha penitentiary, all these MCs is pussy soft like my memories, I like old New York Ďní Eminem, letís go back to last century / Iím a throwback MC from tha Blest Coast, Iíll leave a mic with a strep throat/ aggressionís no question brought to tha mic session, obsessive in how Knolege God Science is tha true nexus / haviní freshness, Caucasoid with 5% teachings of right angle direction undertones in his thunderous poems written arcanely in archaic tomes / tha most brazen with more degrees than Masons, behaviní like Damien / grainy with grime Ďní grit, I ainít even in my prime yet Iím better than most cliques when I spitÖ
Any errors in Twisted's lyrics are solely that of typist & not in any way reflective of Twist's original handwritten work. Twist reviews typewritten work sent him by snail mail, any needed corrections are made & returned via snail mail from Twist who is in belly of beast.
Listen to me spit over phone from prison, serving 12 yrs for robbery
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Last edited by Twisted Science; 09-30-2013 at 09:34 PM.