Smooth with Mine

Kaos, the futuristic, super mystic with vernacular
The manufacturer, I be the Legend—call me Acura
I be spectacular. In any consequence, I’m dropping these
Documents and prophecies that complement philosophies
I’m quick with that, I’ll flip the fact there, I’ll insult you twice
You run your mouth, I’ll run your house like I was poltergeist
Lethal and trifle with equal evil disciples, have you
Believing in idols, your peoples sleeping with bibles, alright?
And any sentence? I diminish, and you know it cousin
I’ll be the chemist pouring Guinnesses and Robitussin
Consolidate the proper weight and find a pure description
No complication, domination of my jurisdiction
Spirits that’s in me coming cleaner with the chemistry
Lyrics is pretty as a Dina with a Hennessey
Now validate my style. I shake from here to Tampa Bay
It makes you salivate, evaluate, you can’t with K
My paragraphs shatter glass from the frequency
My habits fast, your faggot ass can’t compete with me
I’ll flip the Hell, and it’s pathetic when the sonic slanders
I’m running shit so well, they call me Emmitt Thomas Sanders
Putting your mind on exhaust when I prove what I rip
Make the sign of the cross, smooth with my shit
Yo, I thought I told you before
You couldn’t even master rough drafts of paragraphs
I compose. I shatter glass with my flows, but not
The whole arsenal—(a song or two’ll splatter crews)
Nautilus on the map (like we’re longitude and latitude)
Frame of mind psychotic, it’s the chronic at fault. Each
Tainted rhyme’s symbolic of a sonic assault, charged with
Possession of skills, your verdict’s not guilty
The shit I drop’s filthy, my «Billin' Tops» Milk Dee
Vocab thick like Thousand Island, EMS
You’re about to dial when off the Guinness stout I’m wilding
Subtracting bums and stacking funds—you know the issues
Attacking drums and having nuns holding pistols
I’m on-point like a porcupine, I toss a rhyme
You catch it and copy, but your method is sloppy. I be
Illing on breaks, verbs I make stack papes. You can
Feel it on wax, DATs, and 8-track tape. Emcees
I mop with glow when dispersing a proper flow
Believe I’ll stop the show, wrote this verse in an Optimo
And smoke this but quote this: I roll with the dopest, no bogus, but I notice
The hocus-pocus on what you focus is hopeless
(Damn, that shit was fat!) Weightwatchers, check the calories
Mirror-breaking analogies irritating like allergies
I’m having niggas moving in cliques. It’s been proven I rip
Strictly for cruising The Bricks, but, still, I’m smooth with my shit