3.25. :Unfinished

In between these rhymes,behind these lines, lies an ingenious mind, from a whole 'nother time.
I question am I early, was I born late?

My intellectuality,the world is not yet ready to commemorate. My stanzas demonstrate a hand far too superior in script,I can't be mimicked,nah.
Those of my genre are far too low beyond the criterior,to infiltrate, nor even gravitate to my level. Im burying these bitches like an industrial shovel. Im untouchable.

Lovable, and enviable all together in one. Obnoxiously quirky,yet entertainingly fun.
Could there ever be one so enamoring as I?

I have to ask the world why,
I,must be so blessed as to write,the illest shit, translated into script but never heard. Absurd to the upmost degree,but insanity,best describes me.
Silly as it could possibly be,my poetry,simply flows from these,
philangies across this keyboard,to form the novela which you'll fail to comprehend.
Know every contest that I write I win, my words knock too hard to not be let in.
Though you may lose yourself in where this starts and begins,
consider yourself lost in the maze of this craze,which is an obsession with my art. Bitches and niggas take these lines to heart, like a actor takes scripts to part...STOP,ROLL DUCK COVER,word to ya mother..even she Know the shit I DON'T write be the illest shit that's ever been recited in the game.
with these thoughts I entertain,MY NAME can't help but be associated with fame...I'm too big a threat to these dames. Its a shame...its came to..
me bein' too hot for cyphers,cause my lips to start to flame ,because I speak fire, Niggas get HIGHERS of my lines than Kush blunts.
&I aint gotta stunt. Def Poetry Jam, I grand slammed like A Rod,
and like 50 bitches say my name like im God....
I give a few niggas their props,but that's where it stops.
M A R to I, c-o-c-k-y,as can be.
03-09,the game's been MINE.
To be continued