Untitled

What?
You think you're fantastic?
You're spastic
I'm Mr. Fantastic
My raps will wrap around you like elastic
I'm nasty,
Massive and classic
You're just a little man who thinks speed
Is the answer
It's a cancer
To the entire industry
Can't you see
You're tiny rhymes mean nothing to me
They'll talk about my mystical rhythms
They won't be forming a schism
About what I am givin'em
And the messages within'em.

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Oh, stop patting yourself on the back
Despite what you think, you are not the master of rap
You blowhard
Your mind has gone so far
Away from reality
Fallacy
You keep falling away from me
What's wrong? You cannot get back up?
Broken legs?
Because of your numerous slip-ups?
What's the matter? Cornered?
Cat got your tongue?
Terrified, because you can't get up and run?

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No, because I'm not intimidated by your rhymes
All the time I'm fine, it seems I keep blowing your mind
You can't comprehend that I'm more sane than you are
You're obsessed with mental illness
Afflicted by a sickness
Witness to the wicker man coming from afar
And just because that I did time in prison
Doesn't mean I'm ill, you just don't bother to listen
It's the system
There is just something that's missing
And guys like you, I won't even be missin'em.

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My unpredictability
Depends on my virility
So I'll attack you vigorously
And I'll be voraciously
Eating you alive
I'll try to survive
So according to the fittest in the world
You'll die
My oh my
Just get with the times
You're getting too old
So all you do is mime
And parrot without originality
So get off the mic
You're no longer an MC
You're too broken to fight.