*alarm blaring* [Intro: Poetic] Sharp Shooter regime, Godz Work regime Baby J all the way, smooth as alize Yo, yo, General Grym, yo Lockin it down like the federal pen' Yo, we gon' start wit the hook [Chorus: Poetic] I'm 'bout to wreak havoc on the beast this year Labels ain't tryin to promote this here Commercial radio shows, they just don't care The savior of the rap world now appears To my peeps on the pavement, time is near To my peers on my wavelength, have no fear 10 years of politicin make me aware My soul is more precious than rap careers [Poetic] I'm holdin lives, armies of God immobilized Reclaimin scrolls, stolen by spies, holdin fives My mother's swollen eyes prepare me for warfare Bustin of clear in your ear, with more flair, than the 4th of July My Sharp Shooter regime got the prototype to blow a mic You couldn't see me in infrared photo light, I'm so precise You know the Poet's nice, carryin tubes made of gold and ice Marchin through your outpost, causin outbursts Caught you in your house, cold made your mouth hurt Just sayin my name is a federal offence Now you f**in with the hip-hop General, who's attacks in indefendable Your weak spine is bendable, your weak my mind is pretend-a-bone It wants to act sensible but lacks intelligence to pull it off You only understand the bullet talk Instead of talkin that bull, you shoul've walked out of my territory My clever story severs cornies, by measures put together lyrically You like a terror orgy, you rap n***as ---- bore me Made me into this sword carryin, caught buryin Lord varyin, you know the Gods twist it like Bavarian pretzels Plus, I'm never respectful, to those who are neglectful Of their duty to cilvilze, as they minimize the power of a live mic See I maximize all cracks in their vibes, just to provide light And only the strong survive, so I keep the rhyme tight Chorus [Poetic] Modern scientists clone cows and sheeps, just grown from cells Manipulate nature where guns fail, war tactics vary Our adversary has various ways to bury us ex-slaves Of America, every day could be your last day You could be blasted the fast way, caps stray, then ricochet And flash gray matter, while you prayin to the father Kissin the coba, kids in the corner is turnin the streets into a suana In the black home, while the black dome Lacks the backbone to recapture the black phone You got arians all up in your face And y'all buggin off who got the f**in hottest mixtape In New York state, war schemes, your plots, endorse feds And plot lace the block with crates full of Glocks See, they got more fiends fiendin for morphines and more rocks Than Plymouth, until it's too hot for the timid street chemist Got more ba** then DJ's got ba**-bins, jakes'll pull a raidin Stomp at the cop in combat, mortals are charged like Rayden You caught off guard, now armed guards excort you to court Offices where officers offer certain deals which appeal To the snake mind, yo, it ain't hard to find from clothes designs To j**els, to mixtapes to the way that n***as rhyme Yo, I'm fed up, me and the Gods, set up So, every other f**in team get wet up Chorus [Outro: Poetic] Yo! Yo! I'm too hype to finish this sh**! Yo!