Before l collapse, I'll continue to kick spiritual raps since there are no digital apps for holy hip hop individuals. Facts. What I unearth is dispersed into verses molten on the surface that discourages the worthless who are nervous of my purpose. It's worth it if you see me, I will spit it freely for the askin'. Baskin and Robbins don't carry this type of flavor, so be greedy and cash in. Splash in when I share about the Savior - the Everlasting. Unfortunately, sin is still favored and in fashion. People are hellraisers, just graspin' for straws. Sin is an indicator your passions are flawed. The Creator's laws - already in the past has been enforced. Sin must be forgiven or that's a divorce from the Source. A hellish dominion of disaster is yours. But the Hereafter of course captures my thoughts. I'm strapped to that horse. The straight path I endorse. One hand on the sword, the other hand's attached to a torch. No more dealing with wrath and his hordes. Of course, all discord destroyed and ceased. Just greetings of peace at the feast and praise - filled voices as joyful noises increase. DarkSide Penny for your thoughts, I bring the onslaught against satan at all cost. Around his corpse will be all chalk when I run him over on the crosswalk with a steamroller. I pleaded to the judge he seemed older. I mean it was an accident. What really happened is I dropped my cream soda. Mmhmm! Dressed up as the supreme Yoda, I struck him like a king cobra. He became mush, completely crushed as if I flinged boulders. Won't be long before they'll be calling me Donkey Kong, but I won't be calm. I'll dress up in all black, terrorize and attack til he and all his monkeys are gone. You'll be pumping this song. Wait! Something is wrong! My usual mental company's gone. What's with this massive rumbling throng? My darkest personality escaped my psyche withdrawn. Has it taken flight? It's tainted with strife. It's untamed, insane and bites. To see it is the strangest of sites. I'm on a dangerous plight. I bow to the Crown on the ground and get myself straight as I await the pound of the seven trumpet sounds, lest my functions be bound and the Recluse is no longer brown, but yellow. Hello! im not down, that's a Federal. Instead yo, I'll keep it ghetto and step up like stilettos. Stop wobbling like I'm Jello. I'll remain mellow, but a full metal jacket fellow. No backing pedals. Just forward until exactly settled.