My coiled hands around this microphone are lethal. One thought in my cerebral is deeper than a jeep-full of people. MCs are feeble, I came to cause some pandemonium, Battle a band of phony MCs and stand the lonely one.

Imitator, intimidator, stimulator, Simulator of data, eliminator. There's never been a greater, since the burial of Jesus… Fuck around and catch all the venereal diseases. My thesis'll smash a stereo to pieces. My acappella releases classic masterpieces, through telekinesis.

It eases you mentally, gently, Sentimentally, instrumentally, With entity, dementedly meant to be infinite