Watch me get settled and sonically acclimated. A lil rusty, but my vocals untarnished, cuts all D rated. Rap Messiah out the muck and mire, emerged immaculate with bars thatโs blacker than that charcoal thatโs powdered and activated. This is God talk. Vedas in my vernacular, Surahโs in all of my subtexts, psalms in every pentameter. Iโm bout to rule every foot and square inch of the planetโs surrounding perimeter. 2 many Ls and 2 many Ws equated to my present stamina. And I ainโt a quitter. Ainโt your babe, Iโm not your sweetie, or your HUN, Iโm more like Attila. Might go savage on these samples, leaving them hollow-hand me the filler. Struck a nerve with Forever, never thought that speaking freely could be worth a milli. When the last time a rapper made the people feel a pen(Philippine) homie? Call me Manila. Melanin drip. Coming for everything edible-helluva trip. Every remark I spit designed to end the patriarchy-thatโs Oedipal shit. Iโm part regal, halfway lethal. Queen Yaa Asantewaa, battling Brits. Thatโs why my English broken, Ghanaian gold engulfs my mandibleโs tips. Wait-I notice you may be a bit confused. My lyric mastery like a can of gasoline after they done lit the fuse. Iโm triple Blackness in a post apocalyptic mood. Amassing the survivors into a rather highly gifted brood. Iโm unpredictable on these written admissions, Iโll either have rivals bow out or bow their heads in contrition. Iโm a visionary, pineal tilted toward the constellations. My holy lyrics got a following like Godโs religions. No validation needed. My flow off the meter. I go off on rap tirades and park my name behind Hip Hopโs elite. Itโs the only evidence that I need to prove Iโm my way. Cuz I hear the people shouting Roc and Ali Bumaye.
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