Reoccurring Themes.

my mind comes blank, a slate, can't even relate to the grave

a submissive slave in his pessimistic cage, sealed up with rage for fame

what do i gotta do if i wanna win the game?

what do you need from me to scream my name?

How my gonna come through and stake my claim?

How am I gonna do that and still be the same?

same unchanged but still running game like planes 

at terminals, the term of terminally ill just say it

Mr. Rhoads spits the flowest, rips them open, 

replace the face on your grandaddy's coffin and close it

wear it as a mask, attack, your house is now haunted with bats

that's me with a bat, you stupid mother f****r, now i gotta beat

the kids hiding out under the covers, and the undercover police

will have no scene after i drink the last drop of blood, subliminal

crime scene minimal, call me smooth criminal

professional arsenal like a brawl at the carnival with a mascarade 

massacre with a chainsaw, i'm all but flaws, but i'll set the laws

the bar been kinda low, kinda empty, i'm here to raise the bar

let people get crazy

bounded, wound up, to the repetition of useless living to get by or die

try unwind and move your head to the beat, get high and bring the party

to the streets, let the people come together, under what weather

keep the music blaring, i'm swearing, no one round here give a f**k what you wearing

so quit this they wear this so they must be like that, preposterous, you don't know jack

i guarantee they bleed just the same as you and me, they share the water and the air you breathe

so please, calm down, settle around this dj as he takes you for a spin

Let this music submerse you enhance you, allowing you to f*****g live

takes one to be one, so i guess i must be one

see still they say don't see one he just a wanna be one

well s**t not today ain't got time messing around hey

guess whos got a new album? liiiil wayne.

f**k he drives my a*s insane, to the point i can't maintain, if i ever see that punk fake, you wait, i'm gonna cut off the dreds cut his skill with a blade red and rip out his brain.

i'm tired of this always relying on others, like i could take a sample and not call it a cover

but your songs just sound so damn bruised, can't sing a chorus without auto-tune

News flash, old school hip-hip is back, back on the track, like a heart attack

to clog up and choke these new em's they all jokes, goddamn you make me sick

you swear you never heard biggies s**t?

then why your whole style, flow, and appeal resemble him, the king, you just nothing.

me? I received a blessing, BIG said a real EM don't need no college degree

so i picked up Ready to Die and it changed my life

you freestyle coz that's the only change you have to get a wife

a warning shot, to you hardcore talkers, better re-up on skills

coz your flow is like stocks, they all boughten

my rhymes are explosive like a shotgun, quarterback option

hailmary in the rap game like i'm straight out of compton

you p*****s need a tampon, bleedin like a b***h like Agamemnon

i am Armageddon, i'm armed to the ged done, i'm the don, you the pawn

I win all I lose none, i'm just beginning when you're towel bound done