Ecology

It's the basement dwelling virgin on the verge of murking those
 Who try to rearrange my station, so be staying on your toes
 For a swift kiss of death, I section out the mic
 With the sceptre in my sight from the microphone stand
 It's all part of commanding the plan
 Rearranging the pages and making a name for yourself
 In the age of information we're naked and aimless
 Abel and Cain, yet we're strangers
 See a brother make it and hate 'em
 Well I'm taking off everything I earn yet you yearn
 With the yeast in your chest, deceased
 With the breath I'm blessed
 Vocal cords so the mic don't stress
 I take a load off the shoulders of the 1-2 check
 I'm positive, with skill and the will to consider
 I'm rocking gigs from LA to LA
 But get me on a telegram and I'll knock a city in the next day
 I think for - ah shit
 I think forward like a mortician
 The more victims I get the more my sickness is a business
 Cause I'm a victim of my words, I feel your hurt
 I feel your pain when you get slain by my intoxicated brain
 I'm speaking from a chamber of being
 Where they pray that my last ounce of sanity remains
 They branded me depraved
 These verses run hearses through my veins
 Leaving splinters in the chamber of age
 This ain't a big move man, I rap in fidgets
 Any more than that is nothing short of sort of cataclysmic
 I'm the mystic, mister lifted and gifted
 I'm sifting my path graphic you know I'm flipping my digits
 Getting with it, granted I knew my scripture was written
 Like pictures of kids looking in twenty years when they miss it
 The bunny ears are encrypted in prime alliance
 Feeling my vital signs, making sure our talent was still alive
 You feel the vibe, I'm trying to press it
 You still decide that the majority is morphing into a killer tribe
 Still you be chill, ridden to find a iller guy
 Crime and violent heights while he's talking down at a bitter sky
 My God's fried, Twitter that to your inner eye
 Went from crying sinning to twenty year old Gemini
 You see the birds stay home, I make the winter fly
 South for the summers and LA has gotta recognise
 Los Angeles is hotter than the surface
 Of the bastard ass son leaving home for the campus
 Busting rhythms that make you rupture your pancreas
 Your man must enlighten those who writing the bad jokes
 The prose, close your eyes cause you'll be biting the damn dust