Straight Bars II

The return of the bars with this iron heart sequel

See the scars like proving a veteran equal

Reaching stars, watering the astrological refuel

I present my case, like a banana appeal (I peel)

But my bank balance's so uppercase, call it a capital

Being so negative, you really not for real (Minus is imaginary)

Running out of reels (cash reels) like a low budget meals

Compulsive deals, OCD's (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) kicking the heels (Achille's Heel)

As the PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) heals, the trauma reveals

More clinical than a coroner at its pinnacle

Next to an orphanage, it's cynical

Like a poet mortgaged, it's critical

Or an addict boxer, punching lines (drugs) is literal

But minds so criminal like a thief whose mythical

Enemies with assassinations overseas like syndical (mafia)

Having a dubious license (lying sense) to kill

A mind essence with the skill to overpower the best of will (inheritance)

Even when 4 foot tall, I'm 10 feet over you still (10 - 4 = 6 feet deep grave)

Dropped from heaven like a raindrop, went to hell with the runoff (groundwater)

Then in the heat of sin, I rise up like transpiration

And come down again like reincarnation (precipitation)

What I am is nothing but evolution like a product of a hostile environment

Genetically modifying my appearance like dyeing (dying)

Crossing borders cause I'm constantly crossing the line between wrong and right again

As I reap a deviant with a meaningless mind

And leave it to die like life imprisonment, cell bind

From one time to twice, deuces with the nines

My bar's so sub (subtle/submachine gun), compare it to a nine's (9 mm gun)

And I believe its irony when eyes can't see the fire inside of me Think I'm rivalry, but my bar's so educated like it's from the ivy league

Need to coward chickens out here, I own a slaughterhouse

As the old saying goes, if you tiptoe, I'ma butcher thou

But amidst all the mist blocking my woke self to sprout

Instead, I do a full roundabout like a gymnastic bout and turn back to my cold mouth

Spitting bars after bars after bars but raising them with each round.

By: Armaan Yusuf