My flow’s Ebola
My pen’s MRSA
Word play might just murk ya
Freestyles cause a crisis
Addictive versus like vices
No cure, just bad news, debt, and high prices
Old school like a Ford Taurus
Spittin’ staphylococcus, COVID, and C. auris
That’s viral, bacterial, and some fungus...
Limited sales, but my catalog’s humongous!
Reading my lyrics like it's webMD
Nosophobia, got you asking, ‘what’s wrong with me?’
Rhymes so sick, the CDC put out an A.P.B.
No studio, cuz’ the feds keep recording me!
They put out a contract, then ordered a hit
Analyzing all my songs, hoping that the charges might stick
I let them bottle and sell my art like a commodity
Then I exposed the industry and mocked all the hypocrisy!
But they enslaved me with a generous salary
Fed me lies and praise down in the lobby
It all started as a hobby
Then it became an albatross
Writing the truth comes with a tremendous cost




