Ooh yeah yeah

"Rushyyy"

Aaah-hem

Okay, a trillion shades, my crayon box artistic

Nah, I mean my Ray-Ban box, Im on a different spectrum, miss me with the statistics

Sub-level livin, my dimension a subdivision

I give em sub-par vision, they cant see the demolition

Uh, they say its impossible, I see "Im Possible," no apostrophe

My lifes a movie, no props fo these atrocities, jus philosophies

Im the exception to the rule book

Page 1 is a picture of my screw look—Ugh!

Time is a python with a tickin tongue

That clock hand is a fang, man, the 2nd its swung

The end already begun, that circle gets spun

Im ahead of the curve, u behind the S-U-N

n they prayin to the S-U-N, Im stuntin on my S-O-N

Future lookin brighter than the light they think they comin from

I hear colors, my audio is visual

my senses are medieval, they bleed thru

My procedures aint feasible, Im reasonably unbelievable!

Technology aint real until the microchip is spiritual

n God is jus a download, the miracle's digital

Im talkin til my reflection in the screen can talk back to me

n tell me somethin new he learned about gravity... actually

Alone in the room, but the rooms never empty

Hear my own thoughts talk back, tryna tempt me

Is that God, or the paranoia he sent me?

Or jus Rushy, the century's entity? Sheesh!

They pointin up to Heaven, Im already past the ceilin

Where gravity's a memory n 'up' aint got a feelin

So my navigation's internal, my moral compass is wheelin

While they lookin fo a stairway... Im the 1 who designed the buildin

"Rushyyy"

Rush in the flesh, but my soul in the code

Cyber-trance, I dance on em poles—

Not stripper poles, I mean the 1s in ur mind

Im a paradox shrink, now pay me ur time!

A trillion shades? Nah, Im the whole damn crayon box

Singin in hieroglyphics while u crackin syllabic locks

Exist in a sub-dimension? More like I rent the plot

Writin my lease in blood ink, call it a Rushy blood clot!

Im impossible’s exception— [( pause )] nah, Im God’s own typo

Auto-correct tried to fix me, now the system in pyro!

Times a serpent but I feed it the tail

Swallow the future whole then spit out the braille!

Paint sound, speak paint? I melt the easel

Turn a Warhol pop into a trap gospel sequel

This tech aint done? Nah, I fold the progression

God in the mirror? Thats jus my reflection’s confession!

Heaven up? Man, I float in no direction

Space got no ceilin, jus Rushy’s connection!

Alone in the void, but I feel the aggression

Im the ghost with a  obsession!

Most religions sun-obsessed? I worship the moonroof

Cruisin past Saturn’s rings in a phantom with youthproof!

Mouth swallow the tail? Nah, I choke the ouroboros

Spit out the clock hands, now time move in slo-mo!

Im the bolt n the strike, leave ur circuit boards burnin!

Speak paint? Nah, I sneeze out the canvas

call me the brush with the madness!

I built the basement

Now take ur brain back—I need the replacement!

Heh

"Rushyyy"