a rhyme over beats by Zajed ("The Illusion" and "The Reality")

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*LYRICS*

with macrocosmic optics I rock shit nonstop
dropping hints in circle print within crops
plots ever thickening like Highlander, Quickening
sickening flows hot like buffalo chicken wings

futuristic feats I run and jump leaps
across steep deep chasms, crowds panicking in seats
landing on my feet grandstanding magnifique
as it happens with the blasting of the cannon to the beat

I'm on streets and roads even GPS don't know
from magic beans grown out from ground to cloud zone
smacked the giant in his home, backhanded no lying
stole the throne... grow and expand to occupy it

effects and reactions, catalysts are clashing
taste the strong base mixed with salivation acid
captivated by the classics, read Shakespeare backwards
sick of the stage and its fake make-pretend actors

ask me a query, been asked so many already
answers are plenty, massive, expansive and varied
Steve spit it scary if you truth or dare me
I roofed the home on the prarie with gnomes and fairies

showing proof of the roots through the clues of the fruits
while illusion like a suit has the uncouth cute
Guzz stuck to this case like a gumshoed sleuth
left a scrunch in your face like I punched through your tooth

judgement, sentence, punishment, repentence
these are the consequences, we pay our pennance
syllables extending comprehensive message
making sense through a smooth goosequill pen text print

believe it or doubt it you could clear it or cloud it
no need to be shouted for ears to hear about it
jolting your crew into electrical outlets
old souls control new biochemical outfits

... ... ... break ... ... ...

as I map this plan with magic I carry the land
on my back like Atlas blasting cats like Gatlings

all lacking in character, all third-rate actors
get smacked backwards by the word/fate master

goodness gracious I done traced your paces
riding timewaves of spacetime on a tight spaceship

make no mistake I got tons of ways to break you
Guzz takes the cake - I'm great like Frosted Flakes, dude

lifted above average, gifted like Chuck Babbage
with complex mechanics retro-fitted for spitting acid

blastin phonies, easy like baloney and cheesey
couldn't put the squeeze on Steve if cuffed at hands and feet, G

slick Houdini steez - why you think they call me stealth?
I'm under radar screens with cards up sleeves that's never dealt

well beyond the red zone I've shifted...
twitching towards the cliff with a salvia spliff, this kid is twisted

look past the boasting and bragging...
life everlasting even when bodies frozen with toe-cards tagging em

your urge to preserve health - I can tell
but I control the most when I'm a ghost outside the shell