Warp Zone 8 (Gone)

[Intro]
(Ha ha.. yeah.. Mr. SOS.. Enok.. yo..)

[Verse 1]
I got a cerebellum filled with lots of words
Pocket full of lozengers and lungs full of rasta herbs
Getting higher than a flock of birds
So when I tweet or talk a verse
You know I was put here to rock the Earth
Like the bass boost on a boombox, superb
All that other claptrap that they rap's absurd
Back back & forth
Bitch, gimme something new before I snap and serve you like a plastic fork
Everybody want something different but nobody wanna stand alone
I'm like, hands down, I just wanna stand out
But sometimes shit happen to you that you can't control
That's a whole other lesson in life, Murphy's law
So I stay ten steps ahead like a chess board
Yes, yes, ya'll
Pawn for a pawn
Snatch your queen, checkmate your king then I'm gone

[Hook]
I'm gone
Ain't no way you could catch me
Cause when you get here I'ma be gone
You can't be what I am cause
Even if you try then I'ma transform
You could never be me, feel me? Kill me
I could still be reborn
Ain't no way you could catch me
Cause when you get here I'ma be gone

Gone (repeat)
Go (repeat)

[Verse 2]
I'm gone
Off on another path to reach my dreams using what I already have
EverReady battery brain
Heavier than that
Cold as a ghost train on a cemetery track
Thirteenth bullet point for my discog
This job I've held down like a disk jock on the 1210s
Fast paced with a steady hand
So dope whenever I telegram I kill a gram
Staring at the ceiling fan like Andre in Elevators
Trying to catch a feeling off of them instrumentals
Searching for inspiration, trying to be influencial
And save this generation with a memento
Boombox, paper, pencil
Take you back to 1990, Nintendo
More than a symbol, it's a movement
Just as long as you hold on and keep it moving going forward
(yes)
But no I ain't morphin, I'm warpin
Underground like I'm snorkelin
This is the truth and they are just a portion
Too bad they mom & dad never have an abortion. Ha
Is that bad? Fuck it. Make him an orphan
Turn it to a book called Phantom Of The Corpses
Cryptic however the dopest
Cause I kill killers, so fuck Dexter Morgan
I got extra organs
Extra morbid
Professional swordsman
Intelligent hoodlum
Conceptual foreman constructing universes
Clusters of galaxies forming in the circles of my fingerprints
Behold the work of geniuses
He's the DJ/producer Enok & call me Diaz or the sauce man
Mr. SOS the boss man
Lapping a race, the only time we ever cross paths
(Aw damn.. I am gone)

(Hook)

(Outro)
So gone..
Out of this earth..
Flying out past the clouds..
Oh snap..
Is that a bird?
Get outta my way, bird..
Out...