Artifice becomes orifice.. holes in a body I'll menace u
Dump & reload 10 times, the magazine-kicks & u get all tennis shoes
U entered a sterile room, probably like "what that mean?"
as soon as u step to me barrels come out then u gettin aired out clean
My sounds off the wall like bats using echo location
U got a face made for radio, my gun'll air it across several stations
U must be high art, full of pipe dreams its time I unravel
Not modern art, a mod urn'd art with a cremation disguised as a battle
I'll make it look like a drug buy, framed wit perfect amounts
pin a gram on the floor by him then fire like a devil worshippers house
Id merk u wit throwaways, so don't dare me to rumble
my first draft would smoke u without the help of Laremy Tunsil
@
Artifice