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/