Competition Is Nove

[V1]

Through the pages of tall tales and short stories

I was systematically given by Dewey my own category

As surely as it was written the chapters were satisfactory

I'm booking niggas that's claiming they've got a stack for me

My raps are purely worded with allegories inserted

Fuck with your hearing leaving one of your senses perverted

Make sure you heard it

Rarely averted my verbal array with slay the barely assertive

So get Judy to judge and spare me the verdict

No matter how you interpret the letters, regardless of translation

You're illiteracy shows like Babylonian aggravation

From lack of communication, sound barriers get broken

Whether written or spoken, I turn-styles without a token

Cause the way I coin a phrase will rapidly anoint the stage

or vocal session, in every direction, let me point the ways

By way of my index, I pretend like I'm in text

So, I stereotype 6 rappers, and interject 5 spaces to indent

Then I backspace to erase the last trace of niggas whose tracks waste

My time. You'll be last place to the line

due to the fast pace of my mind

And it takes more than a snake or a swine

To place me within a backbrace

cause I'm fat, ace, check the weight of my rhyme

You diggin the slap bass? Trying to figure just how this bitch's ass tastes

Was headed for third base, the minute the bitch delivered the gas face

Like Ants to acid, I burn slower than butter on a tepid gun

Yo, cause competition is none

[V2]

Now, you can bring it if you want it. But, be sure to keep the receipt

Cause when I freak to the beat, you're bound to get returned

I seek the heat and set to burn your tape, to let you learn your fate in advance

But that depends on if you tend to urinate in your pants

I place demands on small bladders and weak podiatrists

If there's a reason I get pissed, then 5 MCs can die-per-diss

And that's a quota. You stated that you know the amount

But you can strike it off the record, cause that shit don't count

I end quotes like double apostrophes, put commas in comas

Make you dash to the doc, while checking your semi-colon for melanoma

Revoke your diploma, low marks to question me

Bastardize the alphabet, and ask him which parent he sees

I use analogies and context clues on occasion

Find my name's in tune with Tonedeff, minus the hyphenation

See, my inclination's to slash forward and not return

Cause if I come back, I'ma light you up twice like burned urns

And pound ya. Cause what you make up is cakey

I'll leave you so flaky

you'll be trying to hit the escape key just to evade me

But you can't quit out to safety

So pay me with your pin-number to sway me away today

cause maybe an 80 will dissuade me

I've played the nice guy long enough, I'm charging late-fees

Can't fuck with the rhyme, so you're hiding behind the 9 just like the 8-key

I create divisions like space bars when you press me

I'm like a hooker with her period - Fucking with me gets messy

[V3]

Competition is none, and Tone said it with authority

Cause competition nowadays is a majority

Of undereducated niggas delivering horribly

Swearing they're more complex than their own inferiority

And right behind them, There's sure to be some whore at the local sorority

Who's wack, yet her shows are packed formidably

Now, baby got back, but she's a bore to me

Cause she's a front, like New York bottled water that lacks purity

My aura be tapped straight from the stream of consciousness

It's not often that I'm impressed, so I'm popping your confidence

At every given opp I get. All I'll need'll be a needle

Some custom instrumentals and just over 30 people

I'll surely hurt your ego if you go that route

I take the low road, but I don't bow to no man's clout

No need to be way-high to express ways to enact this

I planned the fastest path and ran McNally off the atlas

And this I'll practice, even when I be 95, I'll still be at this

Globally off-axis, hip-hop madness

Regardless how the demographics are stacked

Cause I'm the legend that never got on the map