This is music for the movement, use it and turn me higher / and this muted soul will blow the ohms out your amplifier / like the messianic sion from Zion, ‘cause my entire focus on this hopeless earth is to make it my empire / hellfire through my optic perception presents the weapons of mass instruction, the button malfunctions to Armageddon / filling my appetite / from satellites projecting words in black and white / coalescing men and women like hermaphrodites / with only half the might inside me—blast and the verbals kill / with the verbal skills that’s filling these verses I build with the illest words instilled / this ain’t that run of the mill rap, we’ve anchored the battlefield / to consecrate it ‘cause the sacrificial virgin blood has spilled / and no doubt, you’ve never heard something this pensive boy / the kind of sound that got me speaking to seek and destroy / for all my tribulations here’s something we can enjoy / but in the process of it, I done pulled you down deep in the void /

You can love me, you can hate me and wish death upon my body / you can kill me, you can praise me, but still, I ain’t nobody / of any consequence, I play my life on defense / so to break your wackness down is where I find confidence / and I might as well add that bastards get jabbed, cowards get had / so as a matter of fact I put that down with an adamant slab / and tack the data up from NASA to faster master the pad / and pen to plaster tattered chapters from Grand to Madison Ave. / it’s like that / and the rhymes define these life and times we grind to find a sign that keep our minds aligned and shining with divine design / I’m thoroughly inclined to tap your mental code / unload reload, this poison lead’ll make your head explode / into pieces and Jesus, Lord the things my eyes have seen / like staring at the sky and past the soothing kiss of the guillotine / awaiting draped in Satan’s blatant statements / and tasting from my vain deterioration / I’m mute /

And baby last but not least, it’s like I have a disease / and ain’t no room for 15 minutes, ‘cause I’m mashing for keeps / until the day I die, I’ll never peel no caps in the streets / so don’t you try to target me when you feel like blasting your piece / ‘cause I’ve been known for shifting shapes as if my name was Awol / and I was made to grab the Texas chainsaw and eat your brain raw / need I say more or should I draw that ass a diagram / to show your soul on V.I.T.A.L.’s like an egg within a frying pan / fava beans, Chianti on the side like the silent lambs / it’s hella good, you should try some man / ‘cause I’ma make a mark you’ll take serious like bomb threats / in or out of context, I got history like Nam vets / and derelicts with stories to tell from experiences / blasting AI back to Australopithecus Afarensus / spanning the trenches of the deepest seas till galaxies regroup / imploding matter over the stratosphere till all is resolute / this is mute /