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the illist - verses 1 and verses 2:unknown/unnamed lyrics

[the illist]

(verse 1)
everlasting,overlapping the average slacker
because i practiced my tactics and mastered my p-ssion
rap patterns actually backwards black magic
drastic disastrous things happen at rapid speed when the pen and the pad hits,the track gets
automatically beat and battered till it starts
asthma gasping then collapses in his casket,tragic!
straight savage to the mic when i grab it
great talent that you can feel but can’t touch nor grasp it
now lets do a little mathematics,if you add and graph the
infinite styles ive written in while im gripping pens
youd see im the sickest in the perimeter,not exact
scratch that infact im the illist in this world we
living in,for an example get an ample of your favorite
artist and triple them,i know for certain my words will
cripple them,irritant to them primitive simpletons
once the mic is ripped from them this will increase
my adrenaline and ill subtract the myth from men
like arithmetic simple isnt it?

(verse 2)
the main reason i mc is,we mc’s is a dying breed pushed to the brink of extinction
ain’t y’all tired of the force feeding of pop,it’s misleading,no meaning
the industry is filled with scheming,thinking somebody like me is much needed
already made my procedures like a g*nius,strategically moved my pieces,plotting out ways to sneak in the scene since the age of thirteen but
them leeches was in disbelief when i told em i had dreams of being in the league of the most prestigious
hopefully this critique of my technique will cease when im finished speaking
so let the king do his thing while you stroll the castle
sit back and let my flow astound you,either love me or go down a road that’s narrow
known to hold my own in battles, i lay low in shadows
let you explode your rounds till your low in ammo
while you reload your barrel,
your heart is pierced with a poison tip bow and arrow
organized yet konfusing like po and pharoahe,the prisoners of war,that came in the dark to spark the lit-e-rature,got frauds hitting the floor,i k!ll em for sure,rather not bust them guns but they’ll lift for the cause,you kids is just soft,your delivery’s off,the crowd having thoughts of ripping the chord with that pitiful talk,when im spitting my bars the crowd listens,then they sit and applaud
the ending result is you sh-tting your draws

- the illist lyrics

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