[Verse One: Camu Tao]
We come as foreign elements to the global terrain
Cla**ed as autotrophs cut off, alienated cloth that was coarse
Course the cut was created by fate
To sew us on this plain poetry plane which lacks pattern
[Copywrite]
Bust atoms of a higher fabric
We're genetically embedded through skulls of all icons
"Mhz" - Redman
To increase by miles [?]
You remain infinite till the final minute of existence escapes
[Camu Tao]
At the genetic lab
[Scratching]
"That's right"
[Verse Two: Camu Tao]
I'll design a shrine of 409 formulas to shine
My phallus is catalytic
Where the rebel lyric is [?] is a force to mimic
I'm porsalinic
I'll blow the spot like pro lifers at an abortion clinic
Drop to drop pop, snows sparking these scarecrows
Mind from lecture
Agents ordinar', extra
I'm next to rock a crowd full of Helen Kellers
Scores of megaforce that players wanna show with my n***a Cellus
Fellas tell us syllables stung the tongue practitioner
When my product is purchased by devout solicitors
Service
Soon doom it's instructor
My blast murder deputies and the sheriff run for cover
Any of minor mistakes I abuse breaks
Like bad fast food employees
Needing some poise while the young lack
On drum tracks so if you come wack
I throw stacks of rhyme Frisbees
Releasing thumb tacks
Until you run back into your sector
As you expect to stop me when I'm on a roll like Rhode Scholar
Mutes holler
I liquidate this style and lethally inject felony criminals
An unclinged syringe
Matter I want more data that'll blast ya to Madagascar
Laugh at the actors mask after extra atom that'll battle my ladder
I'd rather
Take an unnecessary breath, show that I'm still human
Assuming you thought I had the lungs of two men
[Hook]
This year
We implant fear in your ear
This year
And doing a foreign affair
You never hear our voices inside the club unless we're there
Cause this year
"s**ers are going nowhere" - Gang Starr 'I'm The Man'
This year
We implant fear in your ear
This year
And doing a foreign affair
It's the MHz on this sphere to rule hip hop
Cause this year
"This is where the bullsh** stops" - Rakim 'New York'
[Verse Three: Copywrite]
Inventors of the mic
Had me in mind
When they came with the prototype I made 'em redesign
They came back but with the vinyl draft
I feed it my
Intelligence and redefine the elements
At the speed of light
Incredibly
Alphabetically
Manage to come before you/U like the letter T
You better be at least twice my mental strength
Don't violate
I put an end to the weak/week like Friday
I'm been rhyming way before Dr. Dre had a Dogg
And even back before The Source became a fashion catalog
"Where'd it come?"
From the abyss from which I emerged
How could you claim precision with words
When your vision is blurred
Enter the center of ciphers, your mic will be simmered and burnt
For ten minutes worth
Of a venomous engine at work
You primitive beings should quit MCing and finish your work
Before my crew gets a chance to finish you first
[Hook] {x2}