Playing in Mud

It kicks in like sons
In water confines doing womb time
new fine style severed fresh from the damn umbilical/
A lawless non-conformist,
Uses Thaw beats as buckets for the vomits,
Bro gets ill flowing bars in accordance,
Slow yet still going hard as a tortoise,
Flaunt the skill,
Should we spar there'll be tortures,
Reported by
Unworthy sad wounded authors//
The open mic is closed for maintenance,
Go talk outside with your brain vacant friends,
Or at a hallway of a mental clinic,
Hitch-hiking wheel chairs from passing paraplegics/
I'm an Autobot called Spazzatron,
The one you're warned about with the large hard weapons drawn,
Decepticons
sissy out, new gender,
true penner,
in my prime as commander
Optimus//

My clique rock, ripped sock, we got,
Soul for the music fan/
Wit' enough rhymes to open up a bling-spot
clean cut gold are jewels we pen,
My clique rock, ripped sock, we got,
Soul for the music fan/
Wit' enough rhymes to open up a bling-spot
clean cut gold are jewels we pen,
Do you comprehend?

The hole in my back for when God performs ventriloquism/
Puppet,
Pencilling visions/
Pun vet,
Ben Stiller ill shit/
Scripted,
Intrinsic in value
I tell you,
Gel tunes prop'ly,
Sell few copies,
Popichulo,
You probably should know,
I'm not in the least bothered,
In this bar race none can ever sprint farther,

Others do tend to pale in comparison,
albino twin! Albino twin!/
Psycho,
If you don't know it's I Mpo,
Supah with an A H and it's no typo//
G-g-g-get that ass beat thoroughly,
No prob a nutjob who clocks in hourly/
Quantum leap, as far being,
Outside the box,
unorthodox regarding schemes/
fancy rhyme flexer takin' space in the booth, lace
lines quite fresher than the cancer in your toothpaste,
Fines for the lecture
in the form of a CD price/
Greedy wit' the device,
applaud
Indeed he nice/
Dikes,
Couldn't match the tongue game,
From the old MILF down to the young dame,
Came, saw, conquered/
speech,
s-s-slurred drunkard/

My clique rock, ripped sock, we got,
Soul for the music fan/

My clique rock, ripped sock, we got,
Soul for the music fan/
Wit' enough rhymes to open up a bling-spot
clean cut gold are jewels we pen,
Do you comprehend?
Alrightie Then