​AstroGliding with lubricated thoughts, that's a slippery slope,
Got your whole campaign sinking, can't keep it afloat.
Peacock feathers on display.....all flash, no flight,
I'm hawk-eyed in broad daylight, every bar lands right.
Smoke clears when I step in, no gimmicks, just skill,
Turn a hot take stone cold with a pen that's built to kill.
Chaos in my cadence, every verse leaves a scar,
Sheep Lord—I'm the pressure that exposes who you are.
Pressure bust pipes, I don't fold, I forge steel,
Every punchline lands heavy, let the whole room feel.
You decorate the stage—I dominate the art,
You chase the spotlight; I black out the chart.
Calculated chaos, every measure premeditated,
Talk slick till the mic get confiscated.
No lifeline, no bailout, no referee's call—
When Sheep Lord starts cooking, watch the competition fall.