Here we go, swing between the ropes like Rey Mysterio/
My rhymes so serial, but never plain like bowls of Cheerios/
Here I stand, at my pinnacle, fresh from the padded room/
And straight into the lab like I'm breaking bad, I'm chemical/
When I press record, all my metaphors are legendary,/
Yours are so antique, they couldn't feed or fund a charity/
And I gotta wonder how or why you remotely understandin' me/
When every single you ever released is so embarrassing/
My flow must've frozen, I suppose that's fine by me/
Cause every mic I see, I'm as cold as ever, how the times evolve!/
Yet I reignite the fire, the primal passion that's inside of me/
Incites a violent massacre in every cypher hauled/
The mastermind is back again, once he cracks the slasher grin/
It's out for blood like Dracula, body count be stackin' up/

© Shin Shady

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