I bust rhymes like caged rage busts veins in
the temples of a man, eloquent elements bring
to fruition with rhythmic intuition an
instrumental plan, to spit truth and get loose of
the noose hanging around the collarbone, until
I have the source of creation surrounded and
all alone, and dive deep in it for hours or
minutes, however long it takes to call it home,
as I give a lyrical clinic that you feel in your bones
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