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I invoke the right to call out

Those vultures scoping the trout to haul out

And fight the small bout like "I know them!"

Catch a Hadoken from the biro pen

"Round 1"

Ding, everybody rides backseat

Fact-sheets at the ready skimping on the baksheesh.

Same routine: nobodys on your team then

Suddenly you're butter and they wanna catch cream

"Round 2"

Previously all in absentia

Crawl from the cracks for the sold-out Olympia

Please.. strictly crew to the death and the

Few that spread true love and affect-

I-o-n in the li-o-n's den

Stay up out the Zen you aint coming in

Mumbling something in my ear about

"Dude, we should roll together.." fair weather

It's breaking news: I adore your bad style.

WIth confidence you thrive.

When you make up your own big stories,

would you think to count me in it?

Extra, extra, see through the texture.

Peek when the vectors align like a star sign.

See what you find in the constellations,

aware that we're merely oscillating

Molecules in solitude contemplating

about our food, fuel, and our social status.

Lay the routers down; hooters out;

bring the loot around for the coup de grace.

With the sound a villainous killer,

now your biggin' up the drinks we shared.

From the mouth I'm the illest rhyme spitter.

Gold, glitter ain't shit - evidently frère.

So what you think we had was an illusion.

We aint never pinky sweared or went boozing.

Never skipped through the land hand in hand

or added boom to bap and kept grooving.

Breaking news!