Blank Canvas Experiment

With 23 flavors in your ear, you can call me the doctor

No detox, so I'm sick with every hit that I author

Why bother sticking to punches when I kick it with ease

Looking like a knockout after my foes catching them Z's

Comatose from bows I throw like the Rock used to

People chant the people's champ on and you're the loser

Bruise your ego cause you think the geek can't speak the heat into existence

Friction starts and fiction's far so victims part with a resistance

Noted but futile; so guess it's not consensual

You noticed I'm too vile, but only in context, you know

My body of work bodies everybody; grab the body bags

Cause there is their resting place and they're going to be rotten trash