16 Bars #15

I deconstruct reality

with the tools I use for a salary.

The lateral press to decompress my stress

is a bolt and nut where I regress

in the angst of the patrons.

I'm giving you nothing less than hatred.

If you're not a racist you soon will be one.

When the music stops playing and thy will be done.

They've rearranged my name, turned me red to stop.

The name's Tops. I turn third-eye rappers to cyclops.

I make gangster rappers give up their weapons.

Back-packers quit rapping and go back to preparations for armageddon.

When the lesson sets in they'll know when to nod.

I'm Roman and Greek, and I'm reading Ion.

I'm divinely inspired by a God and a muse.

So tell me how can I lose?