feat. Scholarwise



[Chorus]

It's the death letter

Competition or competta-tor

Get better with the litera-ture

Prepare for the raw metaphor

Be considered off wet or soft rapper

Versus other rap gun clapper



[Scholarwise]

The beat technician, concrete position

Occupation or job: rob your ambition blind

Inclined with the will to destroy

With the skill I employ, the Blackstar convoy

The boy turned boss then death architect

Swing an emcee's mic cord on the neck

Strangled, tangle with the chancellor

Microphone tarantula, sick to the core

With the cancer, hallucinogen

Break down my study or my discipline

Two part atomic, two part nitroglycerin

Door-to-door soliciting, too raw for listening

Black, you lack the skill and proper conditioning

For the sport, no athletic support

Decaying of the muscle only makes

You weaker when we tussle

Known to blow the speaker then I hustle

Back to the lab, poetry I stab, Scaramanga

[Scaramanga: Shup?]

You know you right and exact



[Scaramanga]

Star Tac react, a black mac push your shit back

Knowledge, street nozzles pointed at your nostrils

We hostile eyes, drop a wise glide, right?



[Chorus]



[Scaramanga]

Flows incredulous, hold eleven clips

Blow like terrorists, fold your regiment

Yo, you never lived malevolent

My benevolence when gods jealous

Crush like elephants, so elegant with eloquence







Yeah, for presidents, chic, intense, dramatic

With automatics to greet faggots

With Jims, Tims and Avirex, left tecs in ten seconds

Verbal murder weapon had the block red

Left spots dead, locked webs with the tarantula

Scaramanga, proletariat apocalypse

Like Helios ch