Counseling

[Verse 1: Tago Proto] Welcome to counseling for the poetically impaired You will need to facilitate, embarrassed, and rehabilitate It’s code that I contact my convoluted constituents Camu and Cop’, we’ve come to cloud a clan’s cognizance Command craps and cause crowds’ claps, credits, and compliments I’ll absorb then emit you as a liquid then sip you Then piss you. Faker’s trachea as my commode For swallowing a medicine ball with [?] Most haven’t the right to hold. You’re dumbfounded often Unscripted soliloquy, I trip a millipede and drown a dolphin We concentrate, so comprehension takes patience Beats that keep a genius out of sync/sink like clean dish Take him off of this dean’s list. Jakki’ll testify I came in the picks and stayed in the mix like the letter “I” Solidified [?] and molecules took flight Now that you’re sweating, I know what estrogen looks like What I invest in compress men into Chessman Defining me is kind of like the twenty-seventh letter or, better Mega… out of my audience, fifty Percent are enlightened, and the other half are frightened [Verse 2: Jakki Da Motamouth] I’m one obnoxious motherfucker that’ll leave a thousand rappers moping Grab the mic, I close it down, and say, “This shit’s no longer open” It’s my mic, and if you attempt to grasp, like using my bare hands To tear your pet donkey in half, I’ll rip your ass Your fate is fed ‘til you bite force, I’ll take your hand, then lift you up And throw you off the stage and make you break a leg Ain’t no fucking Jakki, OK. My style’ll fold ya. Try to See me, and you’ll see me leave you with a case of glaucoma Who you raising your voice at? (Man, what the fuck?) Still trying to keep your faith? My fist’ll take the resin out your voice and decrease the bass You fucking with me only proves that you’re an old fool Your style is like adult education ‘cause it’s old-school You last? How? I crash your computer style like “My name is Y2K, I’m here to shut your ass down” And if skill is what you think you kicking, I’ll assure your chicken That your skill is nonexistent like fat-free chitlins After I’m done fucking your girl, you can defend your honor We can have a freestyle contest, the winner gets your mama We all know that you a virgin who ain’t been sticking like a farmer Who’s angry with his poultry, you choke your chicken Keep trying to walk your talk, let’s see how long you maintain I’ll paralyze your cerebral cortex and make you a lame brain Pimps, players, gangsta rappers, you and your bland whores I’ll knock you out the box like a homeless nigga’s landlord I’ll designate the place to battle. You’ll be too frightened Like Clash of the motherfucking bitch-ass Titans Nigga, get off the stage. Your rhymes are too vaginal I’ll throw a punch to your spine and have you walking diagonal So who taught these pussies to speak when not spoken to? You concentrate on rapping. Nigga, I’ll concentrate on choking you [Bridge: Scratches by RJD2] [Verse 3: Camu Tao] Galaxies switch, angles inflict, pain Among, brains are sprung, singles and scripts to take Great to plate, distributing prohibited to radio play Bring swords, cell matter confirms Scatter from Earth, shatter and blur, blistering scant, listening in Echoes ricochet, exoskeletons for eons And misled and misfed and fed misinformation And instead of despair, we sell others each And others teach. This shit malarkey. This copy flipped the bitch To floppy and marketed to cut the major artery And main muscle. My brain tussles awkward oxy over Orthodoxy, sort of mingle, jaw run choppy You can’t duplicate space except what’s in Your own span (My nigga), control what’s in your own space Shift shapes into something usually distasteful Chemicals involved dissolve, and you should make your face fold [Verse 4: Copywrite] Chronically ill phonic spiller. Physics talk like they seen This page. Evade, drop the mic Leave the stage, collapse when my traps are set Or we’ll make an exchange: while I catch wreck, you can catch your breath Megahertz a nine-letter word for omnipotence Your special bland brand of bullshit’s got me open To diss you and whoever you’re close with Your label’s interested? OK, but I got demands: I want The ocean then you thrown off the highest cliff And Congress to pass a law that everyone must buy this shit When contact with Einstein was made, I provided wits While you got the mental strength of five minus six Everything I’ve learned I apply to this, so unless You’ve had a brain transplant with me, don’t try to exist. Y’all bite My shit? Turn and claim you’re tight with my clique? Only thing we got in common is we're both riding my dick And not until now have I seen such a strange kind So full of confidence yet so full of shit at the same time Give me the deck. Fuck pulling your cards. I want you To fuck up so I can tell you how stupid you are