Rap on a doctrine level, so F. Scott Fitzgerald

I stretch limit to this profession/My voice physically fit, tracks I’m bench-pressing

I bear arms like button-downs without the sleeves

Delicate MC’s sliced in my delicatessen

Only breakin' bad in the lab, thought y'all was makin' meth…

If they mess with you, they get one eye like black beans

...and leave a crowd dripping like John the Baptist...

Where everybody play they own part like a tooth gap

Dem go tell you love and light, even for black out

I became the better version of the version everybody thought was a better version