Urban Brag: 'I...Come-Bustable...'

 
Quite rapidly...
the temple burst
from the vessels...

Carrying the surge
of thoughts home
where it nestles...
 
It’s the urbane one
wit-eyed, I rapid fire
like gun blast
all  set to go-flow
insane  in the brain...
 
This wit though
sometimes it’s too  profane
when I spark, slayin'
what I’m relayin...'

See,  I can  get deep in it
as I spit mix, you sift-
seated, grazin' this gift
deep-sit within thee eyes...
 
N'  if you hit that last verse
fast, half past that,  "say can
I spew that come back 'round
 again?"

I’ll bet that you can
guess that the son
is on the  Aaahhh...
'Rise-In' sink-in
this inkin' shit I spat loose
 
Never lose the juice,  
few know that fluid- flow
thru me  true,  I'm rhyme sick
yes, it’s  verbalistic spit...
 
Because Da eyes don't waver
n' mental neighbor's mind never tires of these somewhat vague
yet specifically  prolific lines that
I'll endeavor to hit  'em with...
 
So, strap on your 'save me'  safety belts n’  brace for cranial impact
 
When I burst wit  verse...
the birth of another explosion
of thought,  born from inside
the cerebellum’s sac…