Your faded major organs in a jar

Blood pouring from a portion of your yard

Two hawks having at grackle on the hood of your car

Have you gone too far, well past all PSRs

Out there, where birthdays just don’t hit that hard

All the bizarre, rotting your concept of par

Every last bar, abusing its context

Unusual fondness, for all pets venomous

Dead self-centredness, shadow self-betterment

Declaring a terrible tenderness. Nevertheless

Not everything’s gotta hurt, as it gets worse

He says blurred by the hurricane eye of the curse

Unflinching as I end penning this verse

Registered nurses meddling. Medicine men and several mystics

Snakes that try to kill each other

Doing the dirt and devil’s mischief

Murdering lower-level bishops if the particular element’s relevant

[I’m] sort of like a centaur, show ‘em a photograph

Half gorilla, lower half elephant

Hidden in the amazon. Eccentric and hard

The Padawan. Sign Kendrick Lamar to Anticon. It’s not weird… Call me. Let’s do this the tin can way

Start at the beginning of time. You can call me “chimpan-A”

The thin man. Burna Boy. Messing around with Myrna Loy

Herbivore. Urban lore. Turning it up till you’re destroyed

Brace yourself. Beware the threesome

I can hardly bear the freedom

Sickening situation, I kick ‘em in the skin of the perineum

Somewhere in Sweden. Holy grail. You can ruin it with a mark

Two copies. Back and forth. We’re doing it-doing it in the park

Stays in me a spark… Languaging the dark…

From every angle art. Sacred cadence smart…

Pope bone ankle parts, grinded till they sharp

Not rap, where do the wicked within men bend flat and stop at

A sacred clock, caveman concocted or top hat

Or not that, possibly something more obnoxious

Tears of a mocked prophet’s itemized droplets

Plopped in a locked goblet or various other scarying objects

It complex, to be he who’s not god gotter…

More lone mountain topper… Thrown lightning rod-er…

Screaming ‘bout science, wide and defiant

Out into the cumulonimbus violence that is sky

And I get it, I let it power my power my epic…

My clever go-getter, get better, my fever

Heater forever like ether and whatever holds together Giza

Gee wiz…

Old geezer. The beat greaser. Number two like Derek Jeter

Jump throw, sitting front row, don’t get previous

Deviant art models going full-throttle. Jungle brain

What menace? Cut Chemist looks just like my Uncle Wayne

Muscle pain. Bone breaks. The fakes got shot in the rectum

Grandmaster Flash on the autism spectrum

I’m Jazz Chisholm… Word. Getting dirty with extreme flyness

Piousness. Devout route. Shout out to P-Minus

Shout out to the grave diggers and the weight lifters

L*Roneous. Shout out to the Shape Shifters