Psychohistorians

"I've done, questionable things. Also extrordinary things

Revel in your time."

"Nothing the God of biomechanics wouldn't let you in heaven."

{*screaming*}

[KARMA]

Check the, verbal psoriasis

Probe lyrical shrink rap kids like psychiatrists

I'm fryin this, molten lava burns mics

My sperm spiked with termites, ill tongued like germ dykes

Super informational turnpike, I burn stripes

And rock Nikes, the spot's tight

My thoughts ride up, chickenhead bitches, like cockfights

Parasites strike like neon lights through your eyesights

Hybrid images switches fear left and right

So you could never see this, the darker side of genius

Turn your stomach squeamish tryin to duplicate my genes kid

I mean this, my whole team hit you 'til you done

Seamus the next one, tell 'em how you rock it son

"Allow me to show you, hero."

[Esoteric]

We take it to your face like jaundice, accomplish

Raps damn Gods like Pontius, rocket launchers

Accomplish, less than I when I manifest the fly

Rapper test the guy, and leave 'em there to die

My cohorts rock lo sport and like dress codes take no shorts

We flame lanes like a blowtorch

As time elapses your brain collapses

Galactus'll tear these whack rappers for practice

You access, the Eso-terical icon

My mic's strong, I battle stars like a Cylon

From Galactica, L-E-X the manufacturer

Astromech vernacular initiates the massacre

Punishin republicans and blastin off

Havin robot visions like Isaac Asimov

[KARMA]

Attack crab Gods like rabid dogs, check the sabotage

When I the googleplex be the odds, bet you camouflage

I got heads ringin, swingin on the rings of Saturn

It's platinum, before we ever brought the shit to DAT son

You can't imagine, the section, that this cat's from

The bastard son, I hold tongues for ransom

So enter my sector, the vector, fly rhyme connector

Saturatin tracks with my nectar

Disconnect your, kneecap from your fibula

Distribute the perpendicular skills that could cripple ya

To shit on the, ordinary organisms

Cause we as mechanisms rise above human skepticism

Yo, this is KARMA the Snakecharmer

Seamus the God Awful, knahmsayin, God Complex

Beyonder on the track, takin out the whack, yeah believe that

"There's a 68.71 percent chance that you're right." - MCP, "Tron"