Thinking of the only flame that lacks fire,
like a campfire, I admire without satire.
Words of verity transpire and never backfire,
I just sit back, wired ...
with a six pack of Fat Tire.
To dissolve my resolve, as I act tired,
a revolution of resolution; old ways thrown in a black pyre.
So whatever life throws at you, you have to bat higher,
never striking out, it can never be that dire.
Pulling ice from the clouds to calm down when I pack fire,
I can't slip, trying to get a grip, with a pair of glass pliers.
People think I'm not honest because they always ask liars,
being framed, they write my name on black fliers.
My character is attacked because of the fact that I lack "priors" ...
just a track writer, ready to explode like when u ignite a cracked lighter!
Wrapped in chains and use them to cause pain like Ghost Rider,
deep in the pool of life, with no wife, Ima nose diver,
I make flows tighter like pro-fighter blows and glow brighter,
while you tryna find the purpose, like drinking cold cider.
Following rules like cartoons "Eat at Joe's Diner",
I want the whole enchilada, but they say I need a co-signer,
in my dome I roam within a lone cypher,
got you spooked in your home, I'm the anonymous phone dialer.
Have you crawling up the walls like I cloned spiders,
leaving no footprints as I float in toe gliders.
Manifest an eclipse from my lips that broke your sight first,
making your cloaked demise worse as you evoke time's curse,
Which broke the mind's verse, you choke on the rhyme burst.
I've been a pro since God chose to mold divine dirt,
it made Me, so apparently ... you know that I'm sure!
By: @Gemini_Enigma
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