Illest You’ve Never Heard (Could We Go)

Verse 1:
MCs waste 16 bars like America wastes water
While I value my given bars like I value Julie's daughter
True to order, truly an author, a fire starter, a mic sparker
Savant's been immersed in fire water
I bathe in the blood of wack MCs that I've slaughtered
And lyrically tap dance on tracks manned by Henley Varner
It's
A tall order to come against this rhyme bomber
Even taller of an order? Resisting this chocolate charmer
Ask Ms. Martin
Despite the glares that I might garner
I rip mics and flip rhymes like passes flung by Carson Palmer
MCs are goners
Beat them all like their fathers should've done
Speaking on shxt they've never owned
And shxt they've never even done
Shxt they've never even dreamed to see in first person, son
Shxt they've seen on TV or perceived through Big Pun
From Biggie's vivid writtens and from Pac's exquisite visions
From legends' lips, mic levels ripped
As verbal webs were spun

Hook:
Read between the lines
Read beneath the rhymes
See into the eyes of one who vows to shine
Through beats, mics, and rhymes
Dive into the words
Where the lines are no longer blurred
Lend your ear, be spurred
And witness skill superb: the illest you've never heard
Illest you've never heard

Verse 2:
What if an MC from the Chi that was ill sans a deal linked with a sick producer out of the A?
Except unfortunately you'd never heard of either
Though the product was like ether
And between them neither even cared to receive radio play?
With the same frame of mind to turn back the hands of time
To the days that KRS blessed mics and verity shined
To the days when MCing didn't to mean carrying 9s
The days when this craft gleamed and deemed poets divine
Styles ranged from spoken word, prosaic, and spanned kid
All the way to blazing surges: lyrical avalanches
Outlandish
Far beyond anything ever imagined
Enhancing listeners senses in a manner of ill semantics
Sigh of relief being released
Spanning the Trans-Atlantic
As we clear the streets of the beast that seems to leave this art stagnant
Me and my mans plan to advance and re-establish
Feast and vitals to supplant his recent famine

Hook

Verse 3:
Now I listen, stimulate my mind's vision
Via eminent writtens spit over intricate rhythms
Emulate the vibes
Reminisce of rhymes drifting
Through the night while I sit and
Lend an ear to high proficience
Now you listen to the musician
While I infuse in this the essence of true spitting
So true the booth's shifting
So true non-youths feel it
So true that it behooves you all to move like you've missed it
Recoup this music business
Remove those who've sh!tted
Restore this jewel's glisten
Resume her beautiful vision and tend to the bruises given
Reform the tune's ending; crush these wack ass stool pigeons
This flower we've groomed, let her bloom we soon witness
This flower we've groomed, let her bloom we soon witness
This flower I've groomed, I pray her bloom I'll soon witness

Hook