[corleone]

quick keystyle..

thoughts of a wise warrior, poetically spilled,
genetically build, to war with my enemies still//
.. just, for my reasons to kill,
hand still, on my gun in case these niggas' wanna test foreal//
the golden child.. smoke sess to eliminate my stress and chill,
the oldest owl, wisdom check those incorrect and ill,
I check niggas on a daily.. who aint real,
and can't build,
who don't seek the earth, get merked on any plain field//
knowledge is power, as we devour the hour for top dollars,
the block hot..
I stay eating and beast like a rottweiler//
.. you not hot, I drop logic like a top scholar,
and recite scriptures that date back to years before allah//
I'm well known.. on any jail tone, and fly swatta,
you well known.. like niggas who get their back blown proper//
you not in my league, I'll slaughter your team in army fatigues,
and bombard your raps in every cypher between//
you hyper then insulin, the mic isn't fit for him,
get rid of him,
you need to pipe down.. your sugar levels might need some transitioning//
.. box his head in, leave him shaking like he hooked on riddlin',
the kid sick.. I'm too ill for pills or medicine//
.. I'm a war veteran, trained to kill better men,
Insane, but always remain to be better than,-
any civilian or pedestrian,
or even resident from any tenement,
U.S citizen, to the president//
I should be considered hazardous upon development,
or illegal, like mexicans living in different settlements//
beyond impressive.. a perfectionist,
my lyrical skill is testament,
to all emcees and music influenced methodist//