I bear arms like button-downs without the sleeves

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

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

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

Delicate MC’s sliced in my delicatessen

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

Rap on a doctrine level, so F. Scott Fitzgerald

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

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

Where everybody play they own part like a tooth gap