1st Verse

The black bailiff had stared me in my face convinced 

the Philistine would weigh lifts of justice pure

Aint nothing real about the fisherman's grip

when the agreement of the black skin is just his lure

I couldn't look him in his eyes afraid the traitor 

would recognize the fated exercise would pay later 

the stretching of the wretched to endure a bitter pain and anguish

in a language of a bawl that's worth catching 

The court session was more like war aggression, 

force and meshing, a sort of a tort and sport profession

I'm keeping score, and reaping up a heap of a learn

when it's my turn, every soul in that furnace will burn 

And I won't need a gun on my hip, thus can empty the clip

And let the full scene be seen and run from the rip

A fresh stocking of the mocking will appear in inventory

and factor in the charges of the largest bend of glory [Aśe]

Send The Lord another mention on the docket

and I'll keep a measuring of death pleasure in my pocket

Right next to my license to use vice and violence

where silence is the worst of durst in which you opted 

You wanna see how well a chief could feed a zebra

with beef and fee attached to breed a match of bleed the libra

The balance ain't a challenge or guess to ingrain

when my tesseract is crashing the plane you can't see, bruh 

Prick your finger and adjust your sugar levels

With a pencil in of insulin befriending diabetes

You seem to think that you can trust good of devils

Then wake up in morning bitch and double fry your wheaties

The serial crimes are most committed within the system 

And justice never rains until their mocking Him's revoked, Huh?

# my theory of rhyme and reason to wisdom is

It's hard to hold that oath when your oxygen is choked mf