my science be applied with lyrical violence
flowin real CURses that get ya aparatus to snap
im phatta than cats when i splatter a rap
matterafact you crews cant pathom the facts
i fashion with tact about how im madly in love
with a dream of polishin rap, while mainstream
artist get known but they just scatterin crap
ballistic bullets spray from my mouth
while emcees pray im out of ammo, i cram flow
down they neck without respect, im ghost
found in check without an ounce of rep
bouncin checks of the mental, goin insane with instrumentals
boxin beats with a toxic dream of rockin streets while poppin geeks
with sentences that prove smooth, droppin neat
styles like basketball rhythms, smashin all visions
of bein more than half as raw as livin my life
im rippin the mic like grippin it tight
distilling the right sound that might sound like your favorite emcee
but they get washed cause they wishy, they big dreams soundin iffy
at best they gonna diss me for proven they cant rip me
but yo its shifty, the average cat is fishing for a deal, but cant find one
cause the producers are actually listening
at least they should be….
lookin at mtv with all these could be’s, but they style’s all hooks, see?
i took a look see, to find they all shook trees, makin money insteada leaves
i better be, top rated when compared, cause i dared to flare a real glare at the prize
i stare at the size, of my tries, and lable them despised by the guys who write lies
in these lyrical slump, lyrics i dump out could be material for material chumps
im clearly in front, so back of the bus, its cool until the bus stops and ya wack as the rust
you turned out to be, you mastered the fuss of how to be a g
but cant make one until ya image is faked, uh! you snakes run cause ya late ta class
im makin fast riffs, with phat spliffs and a hint of magic
–OminousOne