sketch tha cataclysm – beware! witness! lyrics
quality follows me commonly stopping these mockeries
sovereignly gobble and swallow these novelty hobble kneed comedies
father them consciously honestly i am the prophecy
c-cky? please, c-ck and squeeze, verses in quant-ties drop them in colonies
countering progress are columns of comments
of wanting me to cop a plea sh-t. . . ain’t no stopping me when
promising progress i got it, acknowledge the college’s hottest
and lava lipped ominous prophet of prominence, i’m a just
box all the comp with just verses and common sense comma then
follow my conscience until my death or til i’m out of breath
out of line out of step out of mind out of sweat
out of rhymes never that bottom line’s i’m divine in my prime getting back
on to it gone through it aught to spit verses with confidence
truest speech fluid heat booming beats working in confluence
truthfully truantcom- munity’s bursting from progress missed
deny it, eyeing it, buying discs soon as their conscience hits
. .
confidence obvious popping esophagus
dropping the novice kids popping sh-t watch how the topics switched
after this ravenous rapping attack enters factions retract
or attach to the sack of the cat that is just flapping his
gums. . . tap and then pump. . . the traffic will come
automatic, spit g-ssing them, after that run
their minds dumb and blind come alive from the rhymes
spoke. . . what if i choke. . never
forever be better then yester’ forget all the cheddar and
measure with sentences present and peppered with cleverness
bet on the member of wetting with letters with
sketch in the center its never december forget whatever weather is
and whether or not the session i’m left in is hot the temperature
bends to my efforts i’m pressing the second it drops
hop scotch the rhythm and shot clock
stop watch the venomous rocks drops, the minimum’s
getting them, enters the second the pendulum swing
s
and ending the bed-a-lam when they come testing the hefty one sings,
forget all them b-ms, i’m second to none, the second i bust,
impressing the sum, from desk to the slums
top to the bottom, yes i got em, i’m a problem
that many have attempted, tried to figure out and solve it
solutions draw conclusions that are absent from the solvent
cause i splash syllables across the beat like its pollock
with this vintage hitlist of bare britches
rare quips which whip kids, blared over snares kicks and
bear fixings of aired mixes, sick sh-t, this kids there. . . vicious. . .
beware! witness
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