[e11even]

oh, you're gonna get it!!!- gun shots: bucks hot- you're a goner, forget it...

I tussle with elephants of lost langs across planes- I could corner Magellan!

Blame sugar n' caine for the assault on the brain core in my melon.

Your attempts at greatness make Atlas shrug, bitch, I forewarn the prophetics...

Born to be a force in athletics,
I declined, for it would be a bore to be more than Jordan's aesthetic.

I drown coreless whores who bore hordes sworn to be more MY profession,

Torn from the annals of future destinies, the sword next to me is for my protection...

Slice souls from flesh bond, deaths wand, of Harry Potter's perfection.

Squatters in my squad are projections conjured to make nom-noms of reflections.

So if you're in a fairytale where your oddest obsession is, "who's bombest when flexxin??",

Collect responses n' check em, cuz word is my bond, I'm the bomb like Assad was the message...