It goes automatic, systematic, world control/
 Magnetic, genetic, synthetic/
 We keep it energetic, all the while innovative/
 Totally invigorated/
 We made it not to break it, but to take it to take it to a whole ‘nother type of plateau/
 Rockin’ rhymes on the regular-FLOW/
 Liquefied within the manner/
 The kinda stamina to land expand a panorama/
 I stretch and swell and always making sure my best is well initiated/
 You’re jaded and you’re over stimulated/
 Which indicates I’ve been exonerated, vindicated/
 From this Amalgamated rhythmic trip through 21st century technology/
 Colliding with Hop-Hop philosophy with absolutely no apologies/
 I constantly keep it scholarly, so I suggest you follow me/
 Or get caught up in the wake of change/
 Because, I’ll take the strange and rearrange it/
 And still maintain the same flavors it came with, to get your brains lit/
 So please don’t memorize the same script/
 And figure it’s phat just because it changed lips/
 Your ending up with sprained wrists from holding the microphone the wrong way/
 Burn 20 matchboxes on a long day/
 So let the song play, and then you’ll begin to understand/
 The anti-mathematical stand of machine versus man/
 The grand Musical synthesis, and I’ve been into this forever/
 But figured the time was now right to pull the lever/
 I’m keeping it together.
 Synthetic.

V2
 I go the world over, but never hold it on my shoulder/
 In fact, the world collapses when I drop it/
 But I never let go of the way I knock a topic/
 Cuz Title wise, your miniscule and microscopic/
 If you need the juice, then I’mo block the socket/
 With enough to knock Anna right out the tropics/
 I plot this with a masterful touch/
 I want the world but never ask you for much/
 I got a crutch- you play lyrical double dutch and hop scotch/
 The process is top notch in all parameters damage ya’ while you watch/
 Lines thicker than ink spots could ever blotch/
 On the dot, time is irrelevant to me like an elephant memory/
 I hold a grudge and then you’ll see that if you try to make a smudge/
 I’ll leave a mark that won’t budge/
 I’m indelible within a credible performance/
 Permanently totaled when my point’s enormous and you’re scoreless/
 And you’ve been waiting for this/
 No bull like zodiacs without the Taurus/
 Year-round, cutting pricks off like a florist/
 When ya suck, you’re bound to leech men like Chloris/
 And Grant you unemployed like I’m Horace/
 Magically rebound the chorus.
 Synthetic.

V3
 Just don’t gimme no plaudible excuse, like/
 You never had the chance to be produced right/
 Then, like, it suits ya right, to bend like a two-striped twine/
 You see, when I combine lyrical splines on the rhyme/
 I create a curved surface/
 With sounds utilized for any obscure purpose/
 I resign from any act of your circus/
 I juggle the line schemes cause I’m keen to all assumptions/
 Devoid of all repetitive functions of mass productions/
 And power luncheons, we’re underground and scour dungeons/
 The undulations manifestations and correlations/
 Can all be traced through my patience, preparations and well constrained placement/
 I got the Tone Control, ain’t nobody own my soul/
 Using the mic to hone my goal of dominance through creativity and air-tight flows/
 I like my sample rate low/
 A DJ’s sixth wish is he could mix this on radio shows/
 The first five went to weed, chicks, and dough/
 Lots of vinyl and a chance to go pro/
 But not every wish is granted- So/
 A 3/3 Time signature won’t go right/
 Or flicker to time just like a strobe light/
 But guaranteed to pick up a slow night/
 And toss it to the wind/
 Competition’s light as a rock. I spread that ass paper thin/
 Cause MC’s I never take lightly, like perjury/
 I’ll steal your mind, internal burglary/
 I’m sure you’ve heard of me/
 Keeping their young minds open like infant skull surgery.