100% - Clear Soul Forces

Hop in the booth then poof, I turn into Dwight Shrute

A white dude with a twenty-five step plan to blow two cubicles from the air

chute, to get loose

Watching me break them ankles on the court like (Get your bitch ass up)

Or I’m stepping over you, huh or I’m stepping on you with two pumps 'bout to

jump and use the platform

Catapult myself into a storm with nothing else on but my bare arms

Dodge a swarm with no protection on I think they call it ninety-seven point

from now on

But anywizzy, time to get busy, I gets grizzly as free falling to the tallest

building in Mejico city

Land on the edge with my two pinkies and shimmy shimmy down (diggie down)

We be them cynically perverted clowns with a fetish for sending bitch rappers

out to drown from the flow of the sound

No O’neill life vests or floatie rounds, so how you like me now

Handle the microphone on some little light of mine shit, peeping the Jedi mind

trick

This rap shit’ll spark like a lighter do in the dark, orange amber ended tip

flick

My ash upon the asphalt and halt a hater right there

Homie this three dimensional visual we inhabits not even scratching the depths

of this rabbit hole, what up Alice?

My damage to wax is reaction to atoms splitting, we crumble the building,

chasing pussy niggas out they villages

Pardon the dribble drippage, dog we off another bottle we ain’t worried about

tomorrow

That nigga bender a fucking problem, model after model

Pluck they ass right out the garden and pardon my assy grabby

That’s just my pursuit of happiness

How you gon' tell me I ain’t out of my gourd

My style came from reading the Anarchist Cookbook with a chef’s hat on

And an apron to keep grenades in, explode my way to greatness on some Michael

Bay shit

To your playlist, while you analyze the strength of my game and hate on it like

Skip Bayless

Tell a itch-bay, when I it-spay it’s cold as the Lin Kuei

The Sub-Zero linguistics, Shang Tsung from an alternate dimension

Giving the soul back to the rap but I’m still killing, abusing

They don’t televise revolution so we settle for headphones and soothing the

worlds acoustics too creative for 9 to 5's

Graduated college they had me using a mop, lines sharper than Sweeney Todd’s

So let me give you a shape up, the Razor’s Edge rhymes like

Scott Hall in his prime, flicking tooth picks in your eyes nigga

Every night I’d dream I never close my eyes I don’t sleep a lot

Folgers flows heating up your coffee pots

Hour power naps is unorthodox crack your fucking necks to the beat

Vertebrates will nod passionately feel passion personified

Potential at its pinnacle I hear vocals peaking

Sneaking glimpses of the lyrical that all seeing

I’m feeling like ten Tom peeping cities on our back, I’m bout to Chiaotzu (Boom)

Kamikaze season spirit bomb booth, I got the jihadist soul, with faith I’mma

blow too

I tell 'em check it y’all, we came to wreck a record y’all

Rapping wrecking ball, I bang your mic soon as you hit record

Now, now, so how you like me now, now?

How you like me now, how you like me now, now?