Something Turk Cobain (aka Tha Prince) and me did, since a lot of my other questions about the Y!A collab were reported. It was turned into a two person collab. Sorry for all the people would were willing to jump on, I might try it again later on.

Instrumental:

Tha Prince:
I’m in the upper echelon of the section
Session starts when I segregate my thoughts like I’m Escher
And the thoughts integrate, and then evolve into compression
Freshened like a spit shine mixed with lyrical finesse
Steadily build up the pressure, like it was a LEGO set
Or that check that’s past due that you ain’t pay off yet
I’m the landlord, eviction is eminent when I finish
Dismember my foes, devour, and clean the dinner set
Never been a pet doctor, but I been a vet
I’m going on 4 years and don’t plan to finish yet
My recurrence is a burden to some
In mental tug of war, too strong , I’m certain I’ve won
My every bar is vehement, got a turbulent tongue
God gave this gift, I guess I’m the murderous son
But I rid of the pests, hard work, sit at my desk
And type rhymes, decide whether to uplift or deject
Either way I excite, and you see my greatness reflect
We sparking up the section, tryna make the cables connect
We just soldiers on a broadband war field
When in mass attack, they picking me like slaves in a corn field
The same veins of the slaves are engraved and paired
Unleash flames, verbal undertaker, ya grave prepared

M. Thought:
I speak words worse for IQs, I won’t Dumb It Down for nothing
I go East… and bite through the Love Locked Down for something
I destroy cats, hit them in the back with child toy bats
Literal transformer give me a sentence and I’ll form that
Born back 93 till infinity, I play man’s worse enemy
And rearrange like flowers, every dead corpse sent to me
I can rhyme clean, or a bit Nasty like I was God’s Son
I open the third eye to thoughts and block none
If any lyricist beats me in a battle, that’s delirious
I make p*ssies bleed like they have a period
Driving like Vin in the first Fast and Furious
Any rapper today knows my attack and fearing it
My style stays ageless like a verbal Dorian Gray
When on stage my words are forced in the state
I gave birth to a monster cause the abortion was late
I forced in the tape till this was worded as fate
My burden is great but I feel safe as a letterhead
Don’t worry, I’m the better rapper and you’re better dead
Rap’s in it’s dark ages and I have the light like Edison
I’m so sick when I rhyme that I might try medicine
Nah… hellhounds try bite mine, but I’m heaven sent
Think you’re Jesus? On the seventh day you’ll be dead again