Meet the reason they invented pain and discipline,
While listening to basic thought conditioning
The mission was clear to get relentless in,
My ill approach to vent this in and out of spoken sentences.
I fish to free imprisonment.
Collected concept collision's imminent,
So let it get heard before they gimmick it,
Verse, to bridge, to limerick.
Remember its authentic,
Its raw like dominican style.
Its conspicuous, memorized and mimic it like...

Once bitten, written in the moon's glow,
The transformation's exquisite, but forbidden for you to know.
You heard the tune tho, the sound when monster's grow,
Into a beast with words that just dull the pencil.
I need the Ink flow,
I need to think so recklessly the product is distinct.
So unique no duplicate could meet the equivalent peak,
Of expertise necessary for release.

For all survival tactics mastered,
I dedicate this first and final contest of stealth.
In circles of completion every quadrant is self,
Problems with mitosis, theres flaws in your cells.
Check...
These creatures spawn an incredible jawn,
I feed the wisdom to another and the story goes on.
Its beyond comprehension, you get it when I mention
It was channeled by the forces of expressive inhibition.
On the evening in question: Where was I?
Under possessed state of consciousness,
Incoherent, bug-eyed.
Searching for rhythm fixes, found em wit the quickness,
I'm now convinced its pretense of why I did this...
Ill motivated activity awaited my response,
My premeditated remedy was lost.
Accosted by involuntary compliance to various defiance acts,
Denying it? Fuck that... its just accepted.

Who's scared of the boogie monstrosity?
A toss between philosophy,
Fiction failed to convince me what it oughta be.
Drizzle ink thick, chisel thin,
Wet, quick, spin to a cylinder...
Then bend to my desire.
Stagger from my cup of hell's fire, lighter lit,
Churn the liquid mix burns at a brighter violet.
I been here before, my soul holds the mileage meter,
Every lifespan, a new mole, somethings oddly familiar.
If rap's a game I keep a stable of the best receivers,
Their sprints, blow through any cover 2 pinch.
You might get a call when the refs review this,
Award the play to the studio stowaway.
Take plenty notes and remember what it taught ya,
Next lessons a crash course on collision with the Monster.

"He loses touch with reality, and lives in a work of illusion."

Once bitten, written in the moon's glow,
The transformation's exquisite, but forbidden for you to know.
You heard the tune tho, that sound when monster's grow,
Into a beast with words that just dull the pencil.
I need the Ink flow,
I need to think so recklessly the product is distinct.
So unique no duplicate could meet the equivalent peak,
Of expertise necessary for release.

"Perpetual, responsive repetition of words...
...of reckoning and calculating.

A good servant but a but a bad master. (monster)"