Diabolic Follow

[Intro: Marcus Tullius Cicero - TV Show 'Rome']

Please listen, as if you were sober and intelligent,
And not a drink-sodden, sex-addled, wreck.

[Verse 1]

I got, medical surgeons testing my urine,
Coz’ my shock value got me pissin’ electrical currents,
And it’s burnin’, my pen is working over-time,
So you go rewind till you finally know the rhyme,
Run home and quote the lines,
Bolic terrorize ciphers like Al-Qaeda,
And fire rockets like I’m inside the cockpit of a stealth fighter, (incoming)
I compel writers to excel despite the fact my deal at Viper was like the cell at Rikers,
My, mic line through Midian, defines oblivion,
Ahead of the time I’m livin’ in like the prime meridian,
So, why sign to get me in a worthless game,
Where, Abel’s going to’ murder Cain for his personal gain,
When I, can brainstorm a hurricane of purple rain,
Till it floods the Earth’s terrain and, bursts in flames,
The same person remains but my, purpose changed,
And it’s worth the pain of hearing ya’ll curse my name. (fuck you)

[Hook]

We let them hands go, we put our feet down,
We give a damn? No, we give out beat downs,
So let your fam know, you wanna' blam; go,
Coz’ we can land those, don’t even stand close,

I’m sitting on the edge, I’m lethal,
I’m afraid I might flex on people,
Might box, might put you in a box,
If you want it we can make it pop,
Quick like “blaow”,

[Verse 2]

Yo, I got half a million rappers catchin’ feelings,
Coz’ I’m mass-appealing like the Sistine Chapel ceiling,
And the, whole time ya’ll pray Jesus comes,
I was hearing demons speak in tongues saying:
“Rob the preacher’s son”,
Too much Puerto Rican rum keeps me tipsy,
I’m tryna keep my equilibrium like eating lithium,
So, (what?) first take the final edit,
I can inspire sceptics to get the fuck up like Simon said it,
I gotta’, street sign accepted line of credit,
With more props for spittin’ fire than pyrotechnics,
And I, don’t gotta’ drive a 6’5” Alexis, for my,
CD to drop on more blocks than when you die in Tetris,
Just as I expected, I’ll get my poetic justice,
When the cats who run the game are leaving on a set of crutches,
When they lay screaming in the general public,
Coz’ the metal rusted on their gun and back-fired when it busted.

[Hook]

[Verse 3]

I never claim to be a gangster, but I don’t fire blanks,
I’m just know for saying crazier shit than Tara Banks,
But, celebrity stars leave us mentally scarred,
So I came to save the game like a memory-card,
Coz’, enemy squads just pretend to be hard,
Like their mic booth surrounded by penitentiary bars,
And, whenever they rhyme they get federally charged,
Their the mafia, and thieves chill wherever they are,
I don’t believe em’, it simply isn’t feasible to heat your pool,
Can see some wolf from turnin’ you little sheep to wool,
Imma’, loose cannon with Duran’s hands of stone,
I leave swagger _________ right in the heart to stand alone,
It’s like cancer prone, DNA strands were cloned,
And gene spliced with victims at Ground Zero’s landing zone,
But I’m no hero, I’m a bastard like my parents moan,
Had a one night stand and pop’s wouldn’t answer the phone,
I fight till I’m jammin’ bones with my knuckles breakin’,
So fuck your mother, I’ll punch your muthafuckin’ face in,
I’ll your face in to make a motherfuckin’ statement,
That I love the underground, I grew up in my mother’s basement.

[Hook]