Sometimes

Hybrid



Ive been digging into crates

Ever since I was living in space

Before the ratrace

Before monkeys had human traits

I mastered numerology

And Big Bang theology

Performed lobotomies

With telekinetic psychology

Invented the mic

So I could start blessing it

Chin-checking kids to make my point like an impressionist

Many men have tried to shake us

But I twist mic cords in double-helixes

To show them what Im made of

I buckle knees like leg-braces

Cast a spell of instrumentalness on all of you emcees who hate us

So you can try on

Leave you without a shoulder to cry on

From now to infinity

Let icons be bygones

I fire bomb

Ghostly notes haunt this

I tried threats but moved onto a promise

I stomp s**t with or without an accomplice

And run the gauntlet with whoever that wants this



High voltage

This is the unforgettable sound

High voltage

Bringing you up and taking you down

High voltage

Coming at you from every side

High voltage

Making the rhythm and rhyme collide



Akira

I put a kink in the backbones of clones with microphones

Never satisfied my rhyme jones

Spraying bright day over what you might say

My blood-types Krylon, Technicolour Type-A

On highways, right with road-rage

Cages of wind and cages of tin that bounce all around

Surround sound

Devouring the scene

Subliminal gangrene paintings

Overall the same things

Sing songs, karaoke, copy, bulls**t

Break bones verbally with sticks-and-stones tactics

Fourth dimension, combat convention

Write rhymes at ease while the track stands at attention

Meant to put you away

With the pencil, pistol, official, sixteen-line-a-rhyme missile

While you ris