Spitting freestyles pre-session, blessing mics and representing straight sickness, letting emcees know whos the pro at this scripture shit, compared your ill-literate so listen up kids/
I think im hurt from these pitchers syphoning my liver, the only way i front sloppy and i still deliver quivers/
Shiver blanklessly like your page when your fronting, I roll pages into blunts smoke em up then leave em running/
Im not judging yourself just your words, they smoke cock like a chicken burnt repetitively served/
So wheres you verbs? I multiply mental distribution exclusively, with lines hit so impudently I leave confused readers fiending me/
Abusing me, and overdose, lying lifeless on the floor, thinking they can flow my words on the net without any audio/
Tooo slow
Thats what I thought, I seen the lack in the response, my plots are part of art and deep thoughts/
Even more......
What next is to come ive slummed further than i planned/ i still remember the day this pen first touched my hand/ not caring whats on the other end then/ now i find myself deeper the ending/ hip hop/ releasing drops till im cut off/ or my fingers stop production like surgeons wrists sawn off /ive spread my name on this net, I dont need an introduction/ They call me worth, thats all you need, im not to open for discussion/
I work wisdom wisely surprising lines with life findings, I used to write shit casualy now im in the back alley/ defining artist/ showing cats ill type flows/ suspose my dome is so large the top could never be aproached/ these are just samples ample compared to no other rhyme artist/ i tell it how it is and dont use no margins/ use what i got and what i brought to this game, making me "worth the wisest", emcee that ever came/
Now im sitting back reading shit, wack styles, failed student shit/ that use this art as an escape and dont know what to do with it/ Put down your pens or come and step but dont foregt im up high, knocking your asses out so quick you be like "damn that kid's fly"/ Heres you sample so read back im about to finish up, learn that worth be so sick with the rhymes he's throwing up, or step up, and be infected by the disease that leaves every other writer in bed pissing the sheets....
