st ars

Spitting straight bars, ensure the job is done
Killing they corpse, it's all to pocket lunch
Stealing, brake fast his car is junk
No rapper matches my tractor they all just grains
An ant to a tarantula, a cell to brains
I excel at brains, ink and hype
I think and write when they on the brink of fighting
I stink at life but still I might paint a picture
Pop post traumatic stress disorder in ya
Most of artists can't think beyond getting richer
I figure I can hone my literature
Little things in life, thick lines of thoughts
All written down, is it mine or a bot's
It's so mastered it's artificially crafted
But I broke the nib and spilled the cartridge
It's all mine, all bone and cartilage
No ghosts, all the phantoms departed
Ari's back to finish what he started
Your music's cathartic, my music's cathartic
I'll make you wanna emancipate son,
Gonna have to keep your aunts at bay
After I'm done you'll be a thin garment
Maybe a skin carpet like a manta ray
I'm on the first floor here to ruin your Saturday
Lock the third door, that's a chance you have to take
Words or tools to finish, I got a vast array
Of each don't resist it you may have to rack your brain
My philosophy shocks Socrates,
My lyrics shake fear into Shakespeare
Rappers all been doing it awfully,
New theorems proven today here
Matter of fact I leave artefacts
Carve in pad little glyphs of infancy
So I can look back in ten years and compare this to my symphonies
If you're under my radar I'll eat you up like agar
Play your organs, wipe you off the map like Weimar
Stray bar perfection, new playlist addition
Let the due date be fiction, still few may reach my diction