When the beat starts, I strike precisely hard. Like darts man, bullseye, always hit the right spot! I’m Sir Rhymalot, just showin' what I got. Discussing stuff down here with my emcee-swat at the round table in a place called Camelot- Where I make fakers' girls 'Comelot'. For all I care you can call me unfair, I call it talent, somethin’ you don’t have up there. Just confess that I make your lyrical warfare less a mess. Expressing my thoughts in the best of raps, stompin’ intelligent rhymes through them fakers’ chest. I spit A-bombs dawg, me=emceeÂ², when my spit hits you, you can’t hide nowhere.