"i'm a one artist army, no weapon can harm me."
i said:
invincible? effect an affect, evince the truth from my mind and make me believe your rhyme, sister.
i was responding in kind. i would have her know these:
that no army, no matter how strong, will remain a unit long if its unable to hold strong in that most pertinent of the many prospective tours of duty it holds in its even more innumerable prospective futures: practice. having said this, i will desist in my metaflow, in patient wait of a better flow from your allegedly militant mind. let me hear you rhyme.
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