Poisonous Taoist - Afu-Ra

«Poisonous taoist!»

«Afu-Ra!»

«The body of the life force!»

The body of the life force, scientifical street nigga

I walk with a limp, no pimp sign, I’m an urban gorilla

Rough and rugged, plus I keep it realer than realer

Stomp these streets, I’m known as a mic killer

With vintage lines, that vintage rhyme

Black circles around rap camps, I be the lord of the rhyme

Whose the prettiest, baddest mo’fo, know down

G-O-D, Blackie Chan, watch me shut it down

Incredible, my credit is credibly credible

Put hoes up in the track, like heavy metal do

Cats act up, I hit 'em with the John Woo

Yo, I chop 'em up, hit 'em up, and rip 'em up

The Lion King’s in town, boy, it’s murder on the sound boy

So line your favorite cottage rappers to sing it

Like Keith Murray;

my Def Jams, they will get in ya

I slice and dice my competition like a ninja

Now let me introduce you, to the man, the myth, the mental

Influential, bi-centinial, lyrical spiritual material

Hittin' you like a literal miracle

Settin' fire to the streets, that’s my ritual

Fossils of my rap book, left for anthropoligists

Show 'em how amazing the jazz, I’m blazing the hooks

Heavily heavily, intertwine with the melody

Deadly deadly, kill the tracks with my medly

Give me that mic fool, you only stuntin' and frontin'

Fluffin' and bluffin', and ain’t sayin nothing, stop fronting

The way I shoot the gift, I’m sick with this

I make crowds flip, I’m a hip hop therapist

And you can do the hustle, freak ya body, bounce

But I gotta spit fire, so I’m sure to give ya every ounce

I’m worth my weight, and gold and all it’s luster

Step up in the place (Woo-Hah) like I’m Busta

Hold up, wait, the sound’s kinda knocking

Dreaded they up in the club, let’s get it poppin'

Jolting compositions as if I was a virus

One breath to raise the dead, don’t try to ride this

And of course, I take it back to the hood

Afu riggedy Rasta-hood, raw like a porno is

Slim brother, but I dip like a corn fiddle

Trey eight, snubnose, type of flow, get a gun, though

I’m nasty, as a cannibalist

I eat rappers, alive, as if my name was Hannibal, kid

Perverted Monk, medicating in the cut

Flying guillotine raps, aiyo, I cut shit up

Masterin' the art, technique dichotomy

Straight up yo, I’m bout to catch a body like Gotti

At home in my zone, who feel the ecstasy

Explicitly, the lyrical telepathy