| Perfection |
| flawless masterpiece, no mistakes |
| Back in the1800s I was burned at the stake |
| Metaphor Mephistopheles |
| Degrees I’ve achieved |
| The brain fluid it takes to believe |
| would equal the seven seas |
| I could reveal the true name of God |
| But you would go insane upon hearing it Release enough winds to blow down pyramids |
| I’m the Michelangelo of syllable |
| Since I freestyle |
| Genesis been biblical |
| That’s something you got to give in to |
| (Verse I) |
| Since born in my mama’s vaginal sauna |
| As a sonogram, I’ve been fond of phonics |
| It’s ironic, even as an embryonic |
| Fed through an umbilical |
| don’t that sound biblical? |
| I’ve been a terror |
| Since I teareth out of the uterus |
| Because evil plans were made to defeat us As a fetus |
| Though now I walk in infamy |
| As a child they had it in for me Was raised with guns in infantry |
| In diapers and in infancy |
| The childhood of a hood |
| that was raised in the hood |
| Cops said put your hands in the hot sky |
| I put my hands down on the hot hood |
| I can’t whine or drink wine |
| Nine planets planned it |
| 'Til it became apparent |
| My parents shouldn’t have been a parent |
| State to state we ran some |
| I wasn’t worth no ransom |
| Money, won’t you hand some? |
| A nigga wasn’t handsome |
| Raise the mind like Charles Manson’s |
| New I was some man’s son |
| But which one? |
| That made me strong |
| created my poison tongue… |
| (Verse II) |
| Why you cut school? |
| Cause you ain’t feel too good |
| I cut school |
| cause my cuts ain’t heal too good |
| Through all the physical abuse |
| My mind escaped |
| through the gift of wordplay |
| I memorized encyclopaedias and dictionaries |
| I wrote anthems from antonyms |
| Harmonies from homonyms |
| Created cinema from synonyms |
| Was livid to eliminate |
| that illustrious life you’re livin’in |
| Wrote rhetoricals in rhythms |
| Made rhymes out of religion |
| Use a prefix as a crucifix |
| Or suffocate you with a suffix |
| Wrote lectures so infectious |
| They’re known to infect the listeners |
| Who dissin’us? |
| Yo punks you wait — I punctuate |
| My karma’s the comma |
| That put you inside of a coma |
| Hyphen, semi-colon, dot, dot |
| Leave you semi-swollen |
| Question: You pregnant? |
| Oh you’re not? I love you, Period. |
| To sum it up, language is my essence |
| Fucked up in all my adolescence |
| Till my Mom’s was out of lessons |
| Laws, I store convenient |
| Still I rob a convenience store |
| Love Mom, Fuck Mom |
| Shit, I don’t love me no more |
| Mentally it didn’t register, bitch |
| Empty the register, bitch |
| You just a cashier, bitch |
| Give the cash, here |
| Or I’ll shoot you in your cabbage |
| Hijack a getaway cab, bitch |
| Words ain’t makin’me no loot |
| Don’t change now Dow Jones average |
| Regardless, we’re Godless |
| They stole my innocence |
| In a sense, the judge sentenced me To 3 lifetimes sentences |
| To put my life in times and sentences |
| Art my dark archnemesis |
| They want me off the premises |
| That’s what the premise is Locked on a tier |
| where you can’t shed a tear at I studied more Shakespeare |
| Than any African can shake a spear at And the whole world fears that |
| And it hurts |
| I got caught for killing time |
| But then I got with words |
| (Bridge) |
| People can say whatever they want about me But agree that I am the Wordsmith |
| They can try to ignore everything that I’ve achieved |
| But agree that I am the Wordsmith |
| I am the Wordsmith |
| The love of words is deep in my brain |
| Must be to silence my pain |
| I am the Wordsmith |
| (Verse III) |
| I’m in a game full of morons |
| And they keep putting more on I tutor the Torah |
| I’m in the core of the Qu’aran |
| The mind’s what I represent |
| And mc’s better re-present |
| I’m taking this rappin’bullshit |
| to the fullest extent |
| I have reservations |
| why Indians are on reservations |
| Told that board of education |
| I was bored of education |
| As far as this go I leave you deader than Disco |
| Rocking sex and violence |
| Over sax and violins |
| Through your minds camera lens |
| You’re in need of an ambulance |
| I’ll knock you to the asphalt |
| It’s your own ass fault |
| Your last thought |
| I’ll never sell my self short to be famous |
| And taking it up the anus just ain’t us The world could get the penis |
| Of this classically trained pianist |
| My P.O. was p.o.'d |
| Handed me a cup, told me to pee in this |
| The linguist musician |
| My college position is that my intuition |
| Told me I wouldn’t be affordin’tuition |
| My education’s all on my own |
| I might have been born yesterday |
| But I rhyme like there’s no tomorrow… |