I feel tight, right ... lyrically smart, set up like a sharp dart, I fly so high I take aim at work, but it ignites ...fights to stay a light .. like a spark up in the dark it goes bright like a nine's nozzle when its ready for its next spiral flight, laced with ice so fine its dust, bust with butter and a knife for a body rush,fly high so yall can float, figments of the imagination, a station to bomb the big busta, so light, so bright, its new. Its dark but its imperfectly the night, right after a fight with the pesterin ghay-ass-dyke, feeling beat by the sight of my previouse night. I lay here spraying like a gat pushing holes through my enemies, shattering and crushing butt, like a super fly f-11 fighter spreading peace around like cheddah... betta yet like the great pacino on a bent daze through a sight aimed at the vital shot ... shut-up fuc** Fu**ity puppit I feel right ... super tight ... but wait the words are trippin, not smoth like lip talkin should be , could be, would be but iz aight 'll be o-tay, so stay dont be ghay, feel what iv got to say , like a monk chirping a melody concentrate on what I wanna make, fake, and reignight for another fight, blood, guts and bones is what I want, flaunt, front, march! Pump it up, lace your shoes, its time to fight