Original Style

[Djoser]

When I first started my style was out the gutters
Rugged and coughed feathers, daily scarin' mothers
Dwelled under, deaf to jewels and lost rumors
My observin' optics found those who tossed Rugers
The only theft I did was lootin' the thesauruses
My anger was volatile, opposite of how a Taurus is
Took it out on the pad, ink sprouted artillery
It was either the art revive lives or let the art kill for me
Quick to exercise my gift on a new pad
Flowin' with as much creative juices that Drew had
If my words became bound they would've drew terror
So I had to look for peers that fitted my new era
in my growth, grew humble but books held my boasts
Teachers and principles were subject to my roasts
Now I cook Dan Rather after use of my salivary daggers
Present the kill to you just to produce some laughter
Grammar and punctuation used to be my cousins
Incorrect use embedded between my cussin'
Now I have nothing in comma and can only muster question marks
The same way officers do when they question narcs
Back then, my rhymes were indented to the right
Now they're like internal organs, in fact, even more than that
Takin' flight or stay grounded, forever merged with rhythm
The fire I spit is meant to leave you burned with wisdom
Began spittin' sparks that barely lit filaments
I used to do this for fun, now I'm equipped with ill intent
This all started when I was sittin' in middle school
Sharpened my mind, time to chisel my physical
Packin' words in clips, hindered by THC
With word quality equal to that of a Ph.D