I'm a paradoxical box of volatile molecules;

Dripping knowledge out of every last hair follicle.

Forewarned upon by Jesus, God, and all his apostles;

With lyrics to make iTunes rethink their business model.

Compositionally dropping all of you on a mission.

Whether Platinum Corps or Stoop Dominion

Respect the lyricism or exit the partition

And take 'Yonce with you

I eat truth and drop wisdom (Kydd hit 'em)

I'm the type to set a bar and push past it.

Turning a pack of rappers to misses in beauty pageants.

Writing raps so good that they're pornographic;

Put it on the Redtube, Pornhub, and the Brazzers.

Get to stepping like treadmills and stairmasters

Nikes all dusty, hairline jagged

Spitting on a track, it isn't even mastered.

I'll still kill you with it. The casket and suit is matching.

It's Lil Kydd, the indie rapper.

The J Saturn.

The unmatchable grey matter

The Pokemon master. Training Cardcaptor.

The head-nodder, rear end shaker and timb tapper.

Y'all swim good? Youngun, I swim dapper.

Put a few sharks in the water, watch em swim faster.

You wanna test after I dropped the Pucker Factor?

Keep carrying on among the line, you gonna turn Casper.

Goin' ghost. Like Danny with the black shirt.

Leave your breds scuffled up and ya back hurt.

With a pen, a book and a magic wand,

See snakes slithering back to the bases of Otacon.

Wanna drop more rhymes?

I pack more bite, than cinnamon and nutmeg at the same time.

That's fresh out the oven though. Home-cooked lovin flows

Paula Deen ain't put me in the suit and tie for nothin' yo.

Forget your top five, your wifey and your mistress.

See me split a rapper into Rice Krispy triplets.

I snap, crackle and pop em into submission,

Then grab my 3ds after I've concluded the mission.

I make you a Departure while I'm bumping Impressions.

These Luv(sic) dudes are too blinded by the sex, so

they smell my funk, like septi and rectums.

My IQ brighter than your Dolzeal's complexion.

Trap rhythm courtesy of Lovins.

That's jasmine in the cup, and an English muffin.

Sittin in the Summer sun bumpin' Dave Ruffin.

You know we tres unos dos dont'chu say nothin'

And so I
Hit em with a little bit of knowledge
And I got em
And every one of their ninety-nine problems.
Balling on a dog like Rodman
Or Mike Vick? Mike Tyson?
Strike violent. No chill
If the pit don't get you, the pendulum will
So why bother?
You went toe-to-toe with the wrong author.

These dudes are regular. Mordecai and Rigby.

Jack me all you want, and you still couldn't lift me

I get straight to the issue, man I'm never iffy.

Complex lyrics just to level a whole city. Lil Kydd.