Sword's hilt pokin' out the jacket
The last thing you'll see is an arc of steel if it's static
Bring it however you wan' bag it
Your battleship don't want nary tentacle from the Kraken
You know my fuckin' style, start the rappin'
The lil' pics you draw don't mean anything to a draftsman
Your brush lackin'
I stroke vivid visions of madness
Tableaus of Chateau's throne loomin' masses
I been crackin' since backspins and ghetto blasters
Young god, using satellites for target practice
So niggas should shut the fuck up for livin'
Gotta endure all these sous-chefs in the kitchen
Talk a wealth of shit and ain't fit for cleanin' my dishes
Or lay a hand on my skillet
I'll tear your shit into ribbons
Playing Fruit Ninja with the cosmos
This is just the broad stroke
Trust me you don't want smoke
Hoppin' out the car door, trench coat whippin' in the wind
Megalomaniacal grin, age hang from the chin
It's grim, like a witless stroll inside the lion's den
And "oh, surprise! Leviathan! With a tummy to hide you in!"
credits
released October 25, 2017
Instrumental: "Muscular Infant" by Alchemist.
Lyrics: CASTLE.
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