An Encyclopedia

What is that? What is this? What is this? Huh?

This is an encyclopedia containing the Latin names of the ugliest parts of my insides

I'm choosing to use it like a compass in times of peril

No one taught me the language of rap song, I was born speaking it

My last name means blacksmith, and yours?

Oh, yeah, I'm not a scofflaw either

Born from the racial tensions between nigga rigs and Macgyvers

The difference between quantum leap and sliders

That is if you have an eye for

The mid-nineties Sci-Fi sitcom

Used to listen to Myka 9 rip songs

And think Gee mom, this seems strong, good

Rap song writing, qua black art aspiring

Now I only write in green ink like Matrix code

Peace to the Wahoo Monastery

My destiny is to write four bars

In black licorice

Convert that to one stack

Then set out to redefine the term nigga rich

I'm very hungry

Done asking for table scrapplings

From neighbors who live just above me

Trapping seems in the vein of hunting

I abstain from only the one thing

I'm so sorry, how could I be so clumsy

To thrust you inside a language game

Without affording the proper trumpeting?

Might make a beat from machete metal clang

I mastered the yeti ghetto slang

Like nicknames of nimble and tip of nipple metal fangs

Milo last seen with a poor sport with more ass

Got a passport to import more for the war stash

Short leash, long lash

Long Beach with bombast

I palm palm trees in my thought path

This is a mason jar containing a last laugh

(Laughter)

It isn't at all clear to me why I should be alive

Kenny Segal's drums are not quantized

And presently that gives me purpose

I know it's worthless and worthwhile

And how to build a fortress

And I've always known

And then he opened his mouth so wide all his teeth were showing

Rows, pews, banquet halls of teeth, and he goes

I've got this one song, it sounds like

I've got this one song, it sounds like

People of color coloring (ad-libbed several times)

(Hey! You can't do that!)

People of color coloring (ad-libbed)

Today they shook me down to my core

It's nigga killer galore out there

The truth is a golden rectangle I tried to swallow

Look at the mouth tears, my nigga

I'm really out there

All five fifths of my personage

What kind of burden could be worse than this?

How can I carry all these dead people of color?

All these black and brown and yellow bodies

Darrien Hunt cosplaying was killed for his hobbies

And I love Mugen too

And that's the thing

I love Mugen too

They gave us Mavis Beacon and slavish deacons

Who predicate upon

Who pontificate upon

Who conversate upon

But never hand-grenade a palm

They find refuge muttering

The patriarchy is on auto-pilot

With prayer beads and solemnity

We, Urban Outfitters, would like to make a t-shirt

Out of your just-born soliloquy

People of color coloring (ad-libbed several times)

(Hey! You can't do that!)

People of color coloring (ad-libbed)

And the raw amount of psychic data that I fail to process

Staring at Cinnamon Toast Crunch boxes

And the raw amount of psychic data that I fail to process

Staring at Cinnamon Toast Crunch boxes

People of color coloring (ad-libbed several times)

(HEY! You can't do that!)

People of color coloring (ad-libbed)

This is an encyclopedia containing the Latin names

Of the ugliest parts of my insides

I'm choosing to use it like a compass in times of peril

No one taught me the language of black man, I was born speaking it

My last name means blacksmith, and yours?