For real. Im Gettin fed up wit wack rappers actin all the shit. for real. watch how the shits done for real. and by the way. im still just sharpenen the swords here.
Walk the line sons, of breathing air and death,
wear the best, armour to protect against the fresh
bless the gods, female, male, respectin flesh,
edgin the cliff spiritually etchin a sketch,
fetchin the crest, lyrically stressin the next,
cat who claims his powers are all in the visual,
fallin rituals, reclaimed sorcery of the mystical,
physical,
tear the epidermis layered tissue,
say your issues, eradicate anothers miss use,
of talents, balance, beam steady and im ready,
seem edgy and heavy, lyrics spittin verbally lethal,
got respect from dirty jersey, to germanys people,
depict me as a king, along with the man of steel,
I make bands feel, suction to walls with acid meals,
Walk the line sons, sway with lyrical stability,
spiritually kill emcees, with swiftness of agility,
the kill is still in me, like DDT in wildlife,
stop actin wild on mics, cause your wack an child like.
Take this collar bone, hollow out the marrow and swallow it,
the taste is as stale as how you on the mic and droppin kid,
im stoppin it, this force is required in my nature,
inspired by the major, and ive retired the flavor,
youve seen self, but now see his split personality,
my rips hurt reality, and slip and squirt fatality,
spit the illmatic flows, noone will ever challenge me,
in this galaxy, im the A-Zed Faculty,
spray this mean naturally, trays of obsene actually,
slays teams gradually, with jaded streams of casualties.
spray lyrics speratically, I eratically end you.
Walk the line sons, prepare to meet your maker,
I stand stare at a weak faker, of obsene nature,
lyrically visious, fluint in flow like liquids viscus,
hit with permiscuis,
talents that idols cant equip with,
Relaxing melodies, I give props for the beat,
lyrics finalize kills, but my man zed, drops defeat,
eradicate souls even there spirits with the lyrics,
feeding near it, and I make sure that you emcees hear it,
son you cant compare wit, the one and only majesty,
truth be told, after ive revealed your phony tapestry,
stone masterpiece, carved by using mental words,
cut your central nerves from this instrumentals urge,
temple purged, your the last of the wack species,
you try and rap weekly, but fall fast frequently.
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