quick keystyle.. "knights at the round table" (open cypher)

[I Corleone I]

quick keystyle..

Yo..

I wreck shit.. at levels you couldn't project,
intellect.. my style raw like infectious flesh//
born out of wetlock, where witches gather in salems lot,
in a moshpit of demons where hell is hot//
I'm sick.. my thoughts create hellish plots,
and perceive life to be diseased to rot//
genocide.. my pens' ink stains papyrus,
and dates back to prophecies on corona virus//
.. tyrant, I hold keys to gates that behold bones and silence,
and lay my victims down to a throne of violence//
I smoke weed, and toke till' my throat is burning,
and that's what the fuck I call a higher learning//
.. I seek death and creep where Gods are purged,
and drink cups of blood, poured unto cisterns//
true blood.. a warrior, pleased to fight,
I'll punch your face in till' your teeth unite//
who dreams to sight? at whom, who stands before you?,
I treat whores to riches, who stand loyal//(parable)
no respect for no man following one,
and serves after his liking, before his tongue//
who wouldn't dare to reign.. ? yet alone speak on it,
'wouldn't want to be king and shit.. leading like he was made to be?,-
an act of resilience, mistaken for bravery,
transitions' into slavery, diminishing what was made to be//
a follower prostitutes his knowledge of self,
where he fails to commit.. he trails somebody else//
I'm god like.. a warlord, destined to reign,
I use my sword for my weapon and eat at the inflicted and slain//
on fields.. where corpses pile up, and stinches remain,
I kill.. and burn it all up, to vigorous flames..

(continue to rhyme after my last bar)

[I Corleone I]

quick keystyle..

Yo..

I wreck shit.. at levels you couldn't project,
intellect.. my style raw like infectious flesh//
born out of wetlock, where witches gather in salems lot,
in a moshpit of demons where hell is hot//
I'm sick.. my thoughts create hellish plots,
and perceive life to be diseased to rot//
genocide.. my pens' ink stains papyrus,
and dates back to prophecies on corona virus//
.. tyrant, I hold keys to gates that behold bones and silence,
and lay my victims down to a throne of violence//
I smoke weed, and toke till' my throat is burning,
and that's what the fuck I call a higher learning//
.. I seek death and creep where Gods are purged,
and drink cups of blood, poured unto cisterns//
true blood.. a warrior, pleased to fight,
I'll punch your face in till' your teeth unite//
who dreams to sight? at whom, who stands before you?,
I treat whores to riches, who stand loyal//(parable)
no respect for no man following one,
and serves after his liking, before his tongue//
who wouldn't dare to reign.. ? yet alone speak on it,
'wouldn't want to be king and shit.. leading like he was made to be?,-
an act of resilience, mistaken for bravery,
transitions' into slavery, diminishing what was made to be//
a follower prostitutes his knowledge of self,
where he fails to commit.. he trails somebody else//
I'm god like.. a warlord, destined to reign,
I use my sword for my weapon and eat at the inflicted and slain//
on fields.. where corpses pile up, and stinches remain,
I kill.. and burn it all up, to vigorous flames..

(continue to rhyme after my last bar)