I've nutured my nature, to grow flows that are organic
With a god complex, that sort of borders on satanic
I rock hard like granite, and stretch my rubber band symphony
One day at a time, and each one will live in infamy
Instantly gain a reputation for consistancy
Washing out my brain, after society's conditioned me
A mature style so pure, your mother dreams of kissing me
So fucking old school, they teach my rhymes in history
I'm not Bob Ross, so you won't see me painting happy trees
Sex nuts, retard strong, fucking all the birds, and the bees
Spin you 180, leave you concerned about your apathy
Even though I crack wise, that's no excuse for you to laugh at me
Even calling me an M.C. is the worst kind of blasphemy
It's not controlling, or commanding, my shit is microphone mastery
Hating on my skills, is the highest form of flattery
And every dish I serve, is peppered with assault and battery
Once you smell The Odore, the time of your life is over punk
You surviving this, don't make sense, like a sober drunk
I twist minds in the fashion of politicians twisting facts
The way stress can make you want to twist blunts, just to relax
Let me put this in perspective, my mind's eye is quite perceptive
Try to remain objective, failing that, I get offensive
My shit don't stink, it maims your olefactory senses
The ends justify my means, so to hell with the consequences
If you aren't sure what common sense is, fortify your defenses
As I take this confidence shit, past the point where it's pretentious |
Submission Name: A return to form
