/Spit with a swagger that’s so precise/ Kick back with a calm overcome with vice/ Awake by dusk cuz I shun the light/ Keep the booth padded cuz I’m dumb with mics/ Off my shit a lil’ bit but hey who isn’t?/ Say it’s religious how I convey a sentence/ Lonely at the top, don’t complain of distance/ They wear scarlet letters cuz they a shame to spitters/ I do my one-two, crack a brew, and they through/ Deceased to exist better act like you knew/ Pre-existing condition, yeah, I spit till I’m blue/ Say I get it jumpin like kangaroos/ Picasso Crocker, I’ma abstract artist/ My flow toxic, bring ya hazmat garments/ I’m soo brash, please beg my pardon/ But you couldn’t wear stripes if your name was Tarzan/
Introducing the bane of Rap/ Rush inducing, cocaine at that/ Say fuck me, more like fuck you/ Keep jib smacking, ur girl get run through/ Ain’t I?... some kinda spectacular?/ With my wild, un practical vernacular/ The Hollister prodigy, I leave em awfully/ Cut up, fucked up, that’s why they call for me/ Ye of little faith, be the first to go/ Go Serch with flow and Fred Durst a hoe/ You should bow your heads and call me Mister/ The nerve, playing checkers with Bobby Fischer/ Comparing Zack Morris to Dustin Diamond/ Views been skewed, not the some alignment/ If I was Simon, ya’ll would’ve done kicked out/ Just cause you high, don’t mean you piffed out/
Cooler than Miles, Dizzy, Louis, and Blue Note/ Twitch when I spit like I suffered from two strokes/ Sid Vicious proved that you could never be too dope/ Young son of a bitch, try and you’ll lose hope/ Pressed button ups, ripped jeans, and sandals/ A vandal with handles that’ll doused your candles/ Conflicted, afflicted, and lyrically gifted/ Sift thru simp shit while I’m spittin' sick clips/ Dammit Bandit, they don’t understand it/ Artistically, I’m just not of this planet// 1st Hansel & Gretel, now onto sum new shit/ Tired of the confusing, rappers translucent/ The new Rick Rubin, hustle like Russell/ Try me for the tussle and get out muscled/ Stephen baby, smoother than C.L./ Rock like Pete and do me damn well/
credits
from The Muta Scale,
released May 9, 2011
J. Poole, T. Crocker, Jr.
An honest, polite, riveting emcee that's smart, earnest, and at times sarcastic. Listening to Ghani, you'll wonder to yourself if he really means it or if he's just punking you. Highly recommended. Crocker