*Onclaut Talking*

1st Verse

I supplied the grants for panting, advancing of arts and autographs

The constant freak to equaling and birthing a harder math

Your daughter laughed but then was given head to my verses, [you mean heed]... I think not with blesses and curses 

The Teslas and Hurses filling up on my electric natural gassing set trip with immediate returns and heated burns on streets and leaving streaks to my prophetic emerge

Hence the wreaking of her wetted resurgence I vetted 

Premium packaging of helium/ and stacking the 

fees of fat backs and weaves, the taxing greedy medium

It's not rare to feed on the beef of a daughter slaughtering the meat and greet when it was seen you didn't believe me then 

You're salty and tryna fault me just for having the knack and napkin for wiping off her throated pleasure

But as a chef with a mean left meat hook my Home Ec peppered a rec you were supposed to know to measure

Hook

[*Onclaut Talking in background]

"Art Is Artillery [4x]... so kill or be killed on the canvas”

Verse 2

It speaks the knot to trees defeating the plot

When the breather of the sea of rings repeated a lot

That the fruit of intent recruited a scent the thumbing of a marked reed and from the bark proceeded Tarrat

BE! The negro rock, the freethrow blocking, choking the degree load lockers till they're pleading for this Master's degree

Licking the flesh of this freshman, with the Kingly indiscretion that they're 

Begging me I have to decree

So assume a cum laude, I'm too gaudy, 

For rooming with a few who knew God is in this body

And threw a request into the suggestion box of investment sex with stock prerequisites and the rest is flex

Pay the board fees with sloppy sinning desire and what The Lord sees is kindling a winnowing fire and the glory in the Highest praise and  forming the score with a crave of saved by the bell and Morris and Voorhies rave

Turned the avenue of the Oaks into the grabbing you and the strokes a different moving the world

To the men of means who lean with a disdain campaign my Alan Thick pen is writ for ruling your girl 

Crown me the valedictorian, salad lick warrior, smashing historian, the flavoring blart

With a tenure to blend pure pledge and a snuck shame bruising whose fuck game is majored in music and art

"Art Is Artillery [4x]... so kill or be killed on the canvas”

[*Onclaut Talking in background]