That's about it, I can't remember much besides the sound of my own voice.Myself in myriads alphabetically, metamorphosis is the name I claim.My man Mike has a laugh every time I change, cause I'm deranged, and straight down right strange.For the fool who don't got no rhythm of soul, and I'm just Neo, and I speak pure cadence on me.Say Neo one more time, they'll send the agents on me in a flash, and if they try to act all rash, I'll just reload.And just hold, let go, your soul was told a long time ago.Behold, met an O-A-O, wailing out back.Castle or a shack, like I'm chillin' villain niggas, plus my records are stacked.Takin' up them corners, run up on us, just beware, I'm fueled with high performance.And we blast free, part two motherfucker, the saga of the nigga.We clobber any sucker, cause it ain't a mystery, but carry mystique, move ill like Majestic.The world's under my control.I drink up, wait, I gotta tend to these dishes in the sink.I get vicious when I think of something malicious, and appear out the loom of the gloom of the gray sky.Or the rise of the dead, in the theater near you.Who, the man in the tan and the blue, with a soul-tree city view.Rising like the dew, surprising like the new wizard, ascending way out the sky, your travel guide.And we blast free, thinkin' of thought that's everlasting, brought to existence by I, the travel guide.I, the travel guide.Yeah!I hang my belt, presented and established to favor.Geschicht!Kasper!Kasper!Kasper!Kasper!Kasper!Kasper!ruhgahgpaDTakehArtistsyou
