It's like a scene out of The Children of the Corn,
Sweaters torn when I head the SWARM,
Inside the inner city desert storm,
My spectacular vernacular,
and poetic style will flip you like a spatula,
I'm snatchin' ya, solo like a bachelor
Your mind becomes a prisoner when i'm attackin' ya,
I'm nocturnal, I burn slow rhythm infernos,
The block colonel with...
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