The Palmer Squares - MC SHOWCASE 2011 (Terminal Knowledge Verse)

I've been the dapper don since I put my Pampers on
Vagabond, splashin' ether on a fabric cloth
Zoned out, foam at the mouth like a rabid dog
I bury bodies in my lawn at the crack of dawn

The rock up my nostril caked
I travel into outer-space just to drop at a colossal rate
Jostling, lost I've gone astray
Term K refuse to walk away until the profit's made

Not a prophet, I'm the second coming
Next to nothing in my pocket, I'm just pressing buttons
The commander, general, bag full of chemicals
Pusher man distributin' scag cut with fentanyl

Xanax, demerol, tablets of methadone
Lab rat packaging anthrax in envelopes
Matches and tennis balls wrapped with electrical
Blasted I'm trashed with my hands on my genitals

Bothered and hot, gon' and squandered the pot
A downtrodden prima donna on a bottomless drop
I personify the clowns and the clods
Gettin' bombed with the squad
Honest to God like Islamic Jihad

Yo, the kids need violence, to live means dyin'
Open up the gates sound the Blitzkrieg sirens
The ruthless, baby face spittin' 'til he's toothless
Introducin' two-bit rappers to my boot tip

A fortified design of the mortified and blind
I ain't suicidal, it just sorta crossed my mind
Days draped in misery, space wasted blithering
Hate shapes the industry while slaves pay the bigger fee

Maintain the greed, what a wave made in history
Generation rage and we placate it pitifully
Palmer Squares be that devilish enemy
Reach for the mic and leave with severed extremities

An excellent remedy for pestilent energy
Festering chemically, dextroamphetamines
Mental telepathy, magic mind
I was sent to collectively leave my battle cry echoing endlessly

No sight, just panoramic glimpses of abandoned ships
Living life sans companionship
I'm accurate, Term K gassin' motherfuckers like a flatulence
Haters need to oil up the catchers' mitt

It's laughable, playin' Whac-A-Mole the way I'm crackin' skulls
Little ones with ductape on the mandible
Seein' red, my whole life's a bull-fight
In full flight I'll pierce your skin with a road spike

I'll pierce your skin with a dull knife
I'm sharp in the mind, poison IVs and artery lines
Raw spit from a mouth full of tartar and grime
Right now I'm gon' pass it to my partner in crime