Light Switch

Yeah Left to my own devices Grand Left to my own devices These are the products you are guaranteed My lyrics are a mix of psilocybin's and diazepines I settle that fix and then proceed to give 'em what they need Layer upon layer of that lethal dosage Spraying bleach upon your Bose's When I speak corrosive 'Til I reach a point of focus Like deep hypnosis Applying pressure 'til it's more than most Beats will cope with No debating needed Listening's akin To placing your fist within A nest of vipers Dead precise how I bless this mic with More certain than my lefts and rights is I take flight And drop lyrics off and on again like it's a light switch But reaching these objectives Will require my dependence on a higher learning Equally and simultaneous Is my reliance on a second nature Only built up out of guts and instinct My mind's sharp enough to cut and slice through Atmosphere's thicker than a row of tyres burnings I'm tying loose ends, compartmentalizing Shutting out that external noise Until I reach my best Until I prove my theory present and correct I'm hanging new canary cages up In poisonous and narrow spaces Mining for the undiscovered gems that you lack Vitamins and minerals And fuck who I offend The fruit that I am bearing Will originate from olive branches But it stems from a difficult And a bitter process So recognise I'm speaking from a distance Still approaching the door Motivational speech Building knowledge from the origins Like etymologists First five-percent nations Or them ancient Greeks In all glory Still recording from this attic But the fact remains I'm only reporting from a place beneath Within them gaps Spaces in between You will find the essence of these like-minded messengers I Flash Melle this message up In the form of broken glass Sledgehammer to these walls 'til I've broken past Speaking for the ones who thirst like an empty flask I burst from the empty page With prose I'm Hemingways Or Ismael Reed, my pen bleeds I just grew from this dark voyage Like I'm Jean Rhys Notes from the Underground, Fyodor And Hov taught me always leave a gap when you see a door Clean cut, my aroma's like Persil Reading Virgil, box fresh's on my feet are Virgil Still time to get my house in order Before the bloke with sickle and cloak Gives the call up Moving quotes and getting closer to what's important Neil Macaulay, I'm switching coasts, hitting borders Started with a point to prove And now my point's proven I'm switching my point of view I dot and dash the track like a pointillist 'Til the bigger picture's Only vista'd when you keep your distance