It's Syze in the place with a knife to your face/
And I'm divin' from planes with a kite on my waist/
Give me hymens to taste, if to die is my fate/
Oh well, I'll go to Hell and I'm climbin' the gates/
I'm drivin' a Fiat laughin' at your Porsche/
Crappin' on your porch, rappin' at The Source/
Five Mics, Unsigned Hype at the same time/
It's a fun fact I run tracks like a train line/
My brain vibes send signals into outer space/
Into aliens craniums at astoundin' rates so pout your face/
You're 'bout to taste defeat like my toes in your mouth/
Forget rollin' the dice, I'm fuckin' throwin' them out/
I'm bowlin' a strike with my dick and my nuts/
Penguins for ten pins and not p-pickin' 'em up/
Sick in the nut, sick in the head and that's one verse/
I'll fuck a chick and egg just to see what comes first/
Here's a fun fact, they want me doin' club tracks like Duke/
Nah, I'll step inside a mic booth and spit a haiku/
We both rhyme good, basically I'm you/
Only times two - times two, times two/
The cleverest of people, intelligent when speakin'/
When my mind rhymes it's developin' a fetus/
But if it's not good enough my mind aborts it/
And I write some more shit, is it tight? Of course it's/
Tight like corsets, every verse hard like woodies/
Drive hearse cars like Earnhardt, I serve bars like Woody/
To work hards my duty, never sleep on the job/
Either I spit ether or get deeper than Jaws/
I'll reap the rewards cuz you reap what you sew/
I'm a theif with a goal to be stealin' the show/
So, what was the stork fucking when this bitch was born?/
Your style has more short comings than midget porn/
I’m a carnivore, schooled in the art of war/
Your heart is sore, feedin’ frenzies, eatin’ emcees, you are the starter course/
So bar your doors, I’ll bring it to your house like Parcelforce/
Gut you then I’ll put you in a hole - that’s par for course/
You haven’t bargained for what Syze is sellin’/
My mind’s a weapon and it’s time to let it/
Roam free, oh gee - its straining at the leash/
The pain it will relieve when your brain is in my teeth/
Forget the fame it isn’t me, I’m not expectin’ a miracle/
Ignored the clubs and sluts and I perfected the lyrical/
While half of you wasters haven’t mastered the basics/
I did it faster than races with African nations/
That’s a grandiose statement but my tracks back it up/
No cheques stackin’ up but the facts are enough/
I was once told to hear what the fans are sayin’/
I near laughed to death like Nanda Bayin//