II. METEORA/CHICXULUB

For the sake of all that's holy salt the earth that's below me
No dark army can rise as long I can dim their glory
Your corona holds a virus uncontained, Its profane sense to
Maintain semblance through the storm's satisfactory
Survival is arrival of resources in timing
When the metronome is based on your hearts pace you dying
Figured out the resonant frequency to project the deity you serve
And it's word is ruined sir, you kept listening
And infected every crevice of your smooth brained effigy
Wit malarkey, hogwash, barbiturates and amphetamines
Instead of being bitter, bitch, be better than you ever been
Insecure libertine, hit the chord let it ring

Skip the chorus my specialization is the race I keep it floored
Even in my relationships never wait I get bored
If I can't get some booty I'll take a plate and hit the door
Cuz I can't take it anymore I'ma break and then ignore
What you got on my 42 once I'm onto you and
Closing in, hoping my approach isn't noticeable
Conquistador, supplement glory for spoils of war
When this mass pack of mad blacks ransack your corner store