Doom, Pt. 2

Yo, I’m the scholar of the streets, pages filled with wisdom, Spitting knowledge on the beat like I’m sharpening my prism. A wordsmith assassin, slipping through the matrix, Philosopher with bars, call me Socrates with bass kicks. Got the intellect to back up every single claim, While I’m lounging in the sun, I’m still plotting on my aim. Scripted verses in my mind, they unwind like a riddle, What seems like a vacay, but I’m turning up the throttle, I’m a king on the low, but my crown’s made of steel, With precision in my shots, every line’s a silent kill. Like a sniper from the rooftops, watching all the moves, Creeping with the intellect that’s bound to improve. Sippin’ on this zen while I’m stacking up my wins, Chillin’ with the masters, sharp as knives; I’m all in. Educated vision, where the hustle meets the grind, Calculated risks, got the world int