Song: Pole Position
Artist: Rationale aka James Crawford
Album: Metaphysiks
Year: 2003

Alright then, allow me to set the pace and lace it/
I'm lyrically legitimate, witty, and tenacious/
the type to encourage humor that's utterly tasteless/
my mind riddled with madness like Hitler, but I ain't racist/
Goodness gracious, I blaze it, I keep the shit locked/
you've never met any other this poignant in hip-hop/
by the way, lyrical fitness?  Yeah!  In tip-top/
I break the land-speed record runnin in flip-flops/
With no pit stops, that's really stamina/
Rationale's a bad mamma-jamma, not no amateur/
precision cuts and analysis like a medical examiner/
watch as I get biz and clean sweep it like a janitor/
The damager, comin calm and with confidence/
I maintain pain beyond a nominal tolerance/
stompin incompetents, when I'm bombin with common sense/
conquerin continents with a monstrous dominance/ (listen here motha fucka!)
I rap with a massive appetite, grab the mic/
like it's been too fuckin long since I had a bite/ (exact and right)
I'm a dope emcee black or white/
so when racists say this cracker's tight I consider it braggin rights/
Here's the synopsis, since the fourth grade I've rocked it/
with a knack to be able to drop it on almost any topic/
so my flows are off the cuff and out the pocket/
but with knowledge and logic, so really you can't knock it/
When I was younger I was a bit of a problem kid/
talkin shit to asshole teachers and robbin cribs/
callin tricks, now I earnestly focus on droppin hits/
because honestly, drama ain't nothin but politics/
And I would rather keep it real, and talk with my feet/
because I'm not a man composed of facades and deceits/
nor a fraudulent cheat, ya see, I'm all I can be/
before, during, and even after the call to compete/
A nasty, heartless bastard with some of the hardest cuts/
words are disgusting like the back of garbage truck/
who wants to start shit?  Most of you artists suck/
even leave me amazed like "What a retarded fuck!"/
Not even in jest could you ass-clowns test me/
yeah my shit stinks, but no, you don't impress me/
and you can say that you got skills, you're clever and catchy/
but in the end it boils down two words: Let's see/
I cause mental anguish with my offensive language/
turn the hardest hard rocks into pencil shavings/
so I guess I'm dangerous, plus extra strange cause/
I'm the type to pass out real gats at violent toy exchanges/
Fuck expectations like you knew me all along/
I'm a dynamic person you can tell by all my songs/
most the time I'm spread too thin, I'm probably wrong/
but my character has multiple sides like polygons/
That's where I differ, need I mention/
that few can grab you attention in more than one direction/
or single dimension and leave you with a lasting impression/
stir your thoughts and emotions and govern your expression/
And that's why I take the time to craft my thesis/
so the only verses that I drop are masterpieces/
and as the track plays and the contact increases/
you can easily see I'm more than your average genius/

(Chorus)
Rationale, I'm part superfly, part do or die/
back in junior high I was a cutie pie/
scrutinize stupid guys, and prove that I/
utilize grooves and rhymes to improve your mind, who am I?/

I'm Rationale I'm part superfly, part do or die/
back in junior high I was a cutie pie/
scrutinize stupid guys, and prove that I/
utilize grooves and rhymes to improve your mind, who am I?