Verse 1:
With 23 flavors in your ear, you can call me the doctor
No detox, so I'm sick with every hit that I author
Why bother sticking to punches when I kick it with ease
Looking like a knockout after my foes catching them Z's
Comatose from bows I throw like the Rock used to
People chant the people's champ on and you're the loser
Bruise your ego cause you think the geek can't speak the heat into existence
Friction starts and fiction's far so victims part with a resistance
Noted but futile; so guess it's not consensual
You noticed I'm too vile, but only in context, you know
My body of work bodies everybody; grab the body bags
Cause there is their resting place and they're going to be rotten trash
But for now garbage will deal with waste management
Dirty job, who's a fan of it? Whatever gets the family fed
But that's my place in this dead poet society
The new undertake with all due propriety
Chorus:
Questioning creativity cause they don't have the answers
Well, I have the tools just give me a blank canvas
Scary to see the talent out of Nowhere, Kansas
A mix of everything around like a US axis
So I'ma grab rap, experiment with it like it's a lab rat
Twisting it with the abstract until you got to have that
Witness the methods of a mad scientist
A recording artist in the lab writing hits
Verse 2:
My heart warms for this art form. If you don't understand
Just imagine a power trip in the fingertips of your hands
Writing exciting stanzas and liking reciting jams that
Cause bonanzas; it's bananas: the fruit of your labor hands you
But are you eating though? Not off of beats and shows
When you do it for love, you work for retail dough
Abercrombie & Fitch through Hollister
Gladly offer a check for the best wrecking rapper hogging them hits
So get them, slugger; from Louisville to Brazil
To fulfill your will for Illinois I steal from Windy City boys
And the fiasco's intended to snatch your Gemstones
Then run them j**els by k**ing mics on LPs
To mixtapes and less concerned with selfies
Giving socialite rappers nightmares and less sleep
So now they're out back trying to start beef, but left pink
Mistaken for well done; My hunger they ain't quelling
Chorus:
Questioning creativity cause they don't have the answers
Well, I have the tools just give me a blank canvas
Scary to see the talent out of Nowhere, Kansas
A mix of everything around like a US axis
So I'ma grab rap, experiment with it like it's a lab rat
Twisting it with the abstract until you got to have that
Witness the methods of a mad scientist
A recording artist in the lab writing hits
Verse 3:
Too cool to marginalized by buffoonery, coonery
I prove to be in tune with the use of fluency; pulling these
Through the leaf, loosing P-E-N-S like songs used to be
So my bars aren't music P, but hard so you F with it through the speaks
That's my forte without the loud, cause without the cloud
And YouTube, I got fans throughout the crowd
Way back to when my compact discs would circle round
The elementary through middle, high, and college graduates feeling my Urkel sound
Did I do that? Do-do-do that, that, that
And use my abstract raps to prove my tracks lack lax lyrical ability
The sk** I wield that you can behold when I fit in the rhythm like a skeleton
In the keyhole, freeing me from menial tasks I'm sick of, so I'm spitting this frio
I'm enferma; promise you never heard a
Weirdo this dope you never had to search for
Cause the frequency I push my freak into the frequency
Makes it difficult to never sneak a peek at a piece of me
Threes!
Chorus 2x:
Questioning creativity cause they don't have the answers
Well, I have the tools just give me a blank canvas
Scary to see the talent out of Nowhere, Kansas
A mix of everything around like a US axis
So I'ma grab rap, experiment with it like it's a lab rat
Twisting it with the abstract until you got to have that
Witness the methods of a mad scientist
A recording artist in the lab writing hits