(Words Axis)
Been pennin' lines since age nine
Before my flow became the vertebrae to ya spine
Sentence syntax, send that gift wrapped
Then transform like a Spinbad scratch
Nice ain't the word, when this mouth curves
It's really tongue-in-cheek in the form of a smirk
Cause no force can oppose or penetrate
Dis and I'll have ya car flipped on the interstate
Nah, I'm just playing with the language
Verbal assault, injury never painless
Here to reincarnate music's starved state
Uplift like Johnny Cash at Folsom State
I don't fuse what's no conducive stupid
I chart Paths to Glory like Stanley Kubrick
On tracks with Solograph, globe in hand
We stock heat like Uranium in Iran

(Solograph)
My Wild Style beat up the street and Krush Groove
Uprock, wind mill, Electric Boogaloo
Heavy-handed drum chop MPC dude
New attitude, I ain't got nothing to prove
Move smooth through the AKG mic tool
With a treasure box mouth bout to spit the jewel
I took a nation of records to raise me into a king
With a needle to tickle a record and make it scream
Grandmaster mindstate, cross country rhyme pace
Picante hot sauce on the side of the plate
Clean cut, mean strut, meanwhile inspired
By a nice girl with a cute smile and a mean butt
Let's back it up to the topic of discussion of lust
For distraction of drum precussion to collaborate
For the sake of the circle of the mic like heard
With my dude Axis, say word.

(Hook)
Rock Ya, Rock Ya (Yes sir)
Rock Ya, Rock Ya
(repeat)

Get em (Solograph)

(Words Axis)
Corona crowns hotter than our sun's inner core
On stage tradin', crowds energy we afford

(Solograph)
To engage writtens from a page, submittin' the raw
Over rhythm hittin', mimickin' no one at all

(Words Axis)
We embalm the culture, revolvin' at the vault
Render mind benders, redefine rhyme measures

(Solograph)
Mentally time send ya with no halt, all systems Experience, head trippin' off the way that we talk

(Words Axis)
Every nuance of phrase, figure of speech
Gather's masses, 78 Rosa Lee
Hands a falons, ink bleeds, Pyranese speeds
Mic fights parasites like pumpkin seeds

(Solograph)
With a scrotchin' degree of hotness to a T
We progress, a beast with those pen pal objects
The rhymesmiths with another timeless mind gift
To rock ya spine with, come on, we comin' wid it.

*Sratches*