Second Hand's Tick

Ticky ticky tock goes the clock Walk fast like a hawk flies fast See the second hand pass Do you really not see? Father Fate is truly crass, yeah He's the kind of brother that'll interrupt Mass I'm 5'10" but I got good posture I was bred a hunter, not a vulture I use all my ken for the culture For what's another river 'thout the moisture I must say I'm Rigid like I'm Young Modulus I, shoot I don't miss I, see target's fate I, know beast to sate I, see it's hard for a lot of brothers to relate Not going for the check, going for the mate Only so long, you can be a sunflower Then you gotta bear fruit, or cower, it's true Only so long, you ensconce in the tower Then you gotta cast your locks down in the mire Short life of movement Is sweeter Than long life Of stagnancy So I will keep moving Even if nigh drowning within the sea Ticky ticky tock goes the clock Walk fast like a hawk flies fast See the second hand pass Do you really not see? Father Fate is truly crass, yeah He's the kind of brother that'll interrupt Mass I'm 5'10" but I got good posture I was bred a hunter, not a vulture I use all my ken for the culture For what's another river 'thout the moisture Oftentimes I find it hard to mop my own kitchen 'Cause when I look into the glass I don't see my reflection I see another brother with encumbrance on his back Like I'm wading in the murky waters awaiting a shark attack I could sell ice to an eskimo Making humid raps dripping with the flow Flying with the crow On my shoulder I'm a climber Life's a boulder I'm a suitcase You're a folder I'm a dirigible Individual so likely to rise 'Cause he's seminal It's almost criminal Crafting the rhymes that I do Whilst being so far from ephemeral I go straight on red 'Cause through I keep my head I rather wash up dead Than write my runes abed I'll pick He every single time over lead And watch where my feet in the snake pit tread Ticky ticky tock goes the clock Walk fast like a hawk flies fast See the second hand pass Do you really not see? Father Fate is truly crass, yeah He's the kind of brother that'll interrupt Mass I pick up my pen So words can get dancing I am the poacher You keep on prancing Give you the Maxim But I guarantee I'm still advancing Many a maxim Making, even though the pen is taxing I, must, my ken, relay Cry, 'cause life's whip does flay Why, have I chosen this rough way? 'Cause I get my fix from the truth I say