Fake *****z get blitzed and mic bites I swing swords and cut clowns **** is too swift to bite you record and write it down I flow like the blood on a murder scene, like a syringe on some loud howl ****, to insert a fiend But it was yo ock, the shop stolen heart Catch a swollen heart from not rollin smart I put mad pressure, on phony wack rhymes that get hurt ****'s played, like zodiac signs on sweatshirt That's minimum, and feminine like sandals My minimum table stacks a verse on a gamble Energy is felt once the cards are dealt With the impact of roundhouse kicks from black belts that attack, the mic-fones like cyclones or typhoon I represent from midnight to high noon I don't waste ink, ***** I think I drop megaton BOMBS more faster than you blink Cause rhyme thoughts travel at a tremendous speed Clouds of smoke, of natural blends of weed