| I set my moves up strategically, enemy kings are taken easily
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| Knights move four spaces, in place of bishops east of me
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| Communicate with pawns on a telepathic frequency
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| Smash knights with mics in militant mental fights, it seems to be
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| An everlasting battle on the 64-block geometric metal battlefield
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| The sword of my rook, will shatter your feeble battle shield
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| I witness a bishop that’ll wield his mystic sword
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| And slaughter every player who inhabits my chessboard
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| Knight to Queen’s three, I slice through MC’s
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| Seize the rook’s towers and the bishop’s ministries
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| Minstrels sing songs and mimic me, but cease to live instantly
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| Hidden deep within me is a sinister entity
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| Intentions of tension, tense in ten tents
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| Where kings rest in beds with queens' breasts exposed for sex
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| To decrease or release tension, tends to tense men
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| When traitorous defenses fence in kings men
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| I quickly push the whore up from off of me
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| Trying to understand this battle of psychology
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| Psychotic, I slice optics of cyclops
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| And wander with warlocks, through Indian corn stalks
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| Chessboard blocks become blood-red
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| Blood clots block brains and lock the thoughts of pawns in shock
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| I shot, crossbows and toss flows across moats
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| To pierce the archer’s armor, armed with arrows
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| Pole points from elbows, where joints join with marrow
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| To maim, the tip of the arrows lit with flame
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| Checkmate — the death of your king ends the game |