When I enter the mist
I’m the reason that the pendulum shifts
You wouldn’t right with a intricate twist if I didn’t exist
I’m the difference
You know I’m death I give you a kiss if you slippin’
When I’m in the room I make lyricist dig deeper
Open they notebook look over they shoulder
And see the Grim Reaper
People done stole my rhymes so many times
I done heard my lines in nine battle raps and ten features
Six Funk Flex freestyles, hold it now
Rappers y’all be calling the GOAT be using a stolen style
From the golden child
It’s like I went to Fogo de Chão
Crooked’s ready to beef with the Gods I’m eating holy cow
I turn your Mount Rushmore into a volcano
Flow hotter than lava you nada but it’s all bueno
Y’all actors like John Stamos and Clark Gable
The dark angel with a COB flag singing the Star-Spangled

Bustas
Flipmode
I been flippin’ for fifty one weeks and my shit’s cold
Dizz done flipped fifty one beats it’s a big load
You can’t hear bars like these on a hit song
I rhyme
Busta
Flipmode
I’m on some forever shit I’ma never get old
I’m on some eloquent intelligent ghetto shit
Mixed with black excellence
Talking that yellow brick road like
Diana Ross I am a boss
No more smoke talk unless it’s from the Porche
Cayenne exhaust
(Skrrt)

Jingle bells fuck your single sells
I don’t mingle well
With mainstream artists I see a male Tinker Bell
With a dress on and press on fingernails we can tell
You’ll never be Chappelle
You ain’t willing to lose money just to keep yourself
We excel we prevail be ourselves
‘Fore I lay with you devils I rather sleep in hell
New slaves drinking out of massa’s fountain
Can’t handle freedom well
Batch of rappers from here to Minneapolis
I slap ’em backwards my spit is immaculate
No rapping after
My city is hazardous I pack a clapper
I’m sick as a masochist
Slashing his own Adam’s apple for sexual pleasure
The Weeklys are a intellectual treasure
That effect you forever same texture as leather
It’s rough

Busta
Flipmode
I been flippin’ for fifty one weeks and my shit’s cold
Dizz done flipped fifty one beats it’s a big load
You can’t hear bars like these on a hit song
I rhyme
Busta
Flipmode
I’m on some forever shit I’ma never get old
I’m on some eloquent intelligent ghetto shit
Mixed with black excellence
Talking that yellow brick road like
Diana Ross I am a boss
No more smoke talk unless it’s from the Porsche
Cayenne exhaust
(Skrrt)

Yeah
I couldn’t shout everybody out
But I love all y’all
One week left!