Don't get green I'm trying to keep it down and stay modest, honest, honest but Oh, it's so hard this just how it sounds to be on it, honest, honest

I'm a villain in the sky, murder murderers, hide. Bird of prey is on the prowl, bitch, pray he ain't nearby, who is he? Teddy Rycroft, slap-happy Hawaiian bandit, rap savvy, tongue tying, dung flinging, gun slinging, don bringed his big hip-hop bout about the no fame but fortune aforementioned fucks - he reprimands them. Yes
I've been running laps just to end this, senseless utterance of raps the conventions pensive. Butterball motherfuckers gotta ball
but I bet a baller ain't been hip to his offenses. Up against the fences when I breathe out on a track. A commencement of me weeding out these wack king Tut muttering sing song sputter butts. Metaphors out the door, I just bust a butter nut. Bust it better, fat brats bitter, frat bro? No, slip-slop line spitter, Busta Rhymin climbing higher finding diamonds inside of minds - that glitter. Eyed miming in the silence so now prized, sized up, lines tough, swan dive in clitor...ascending up?
And I don't mean to boast but if I don't brag in a plethora of ways they'll be stepping on my ass. I'm the dracula of all trades let me demonstrate: My tongue game is one game you don't want to fuck with. I'm too fast you lose gas and end up quite luckless and newsflash yo boos ass at tongue game its rubbish. She don gave me dengue but it's ok I'm bloodless. but it's ok I'm blunderless, tear me asunderless. No time to undermine my rhymes I'm plundering
dime after dime of the change you have claimed to have brought
wonder why "just this time" is the name of the fame you have wrought

And I'm never going to rest, lines in my mental need a place to vent, I'm too pressed. X right next to your name on my checklist. Let's get festive with these aimless, shameless, basic bitches. I berate empty MCs to see if I can't break them down to pieces. Feast on the weak, say grace, ceaseless Jason. The deceased rest peaceless, yes it's Ted from the D.o.C.
not the D.M.V. just the D.o.C.
and I'm conquering fools quickly like A.S.A.P. with ease, middle fingers at me, don't linger see I'm Chance singing: Oh, and your bitch breaks down my week sometimes, but I don't smoke Sour-D, only dope gorilla green that'll put me int he mood to write.That's a metaphor, for the goal I'm headed for. More than only fetters for my enemies a bit of better score a bit of better pitter patter on the door of holy pedigree. Holy-moly batter up, slathered in my verbal muck.
A matador with Halle Berry badder whores up in his truck and a fatter score, tally up the matter like a Jordan dunk. Acting like a homie flunked class, put your ass in the seat, but I'm fast with this beat, and the masses agree, luster lacking defeat, of the hapless deceased. Dummies tactless with me so its back to the teat. Teddy-Bear motherfucker I'm your mascot. Rock to the beat like Fred rocked the ascot. Mining to the depths of the past, gods blinding my steps,
straight running until a homie hit bedrock!