Checkmate

I set my moves up strategically, enemy kings are taken easily Knights move four spaces, in place of bishops east of me Communicate with pawns on a telepathic frequency Smash knights with mics in militant mental fights, it seems to be An everlasting battle on the 64-block geometric metal battlefield The sword of my rook, will shatter your feeble battle shield I witness a bishop that'll wield his mystic sword And slaughter every player who inhabits my chessboard Knight to Queen's three, I slice through MC's Seize the rook's towers and the bishop's ministries Minstrels sing songs and mimic me, but cease to live instantly Hidden deep within me is a sinister entity Intentions of tension, tense in ten tents Where kings rest in beds with queens' breasts exposed for sex To decrease or release tension, tends to tense men When traitorous defenses fence in kings men I quickly push the whore up from off of me Trying to understand this battle of psychology Psychotic, I slice optics of cyclops And wander with warlocks, through Indian corn stalks Chessboard blocks become blood-red Blood clots block brains and lock the thoughts of pawns in shock I shot, crossbows and toss flows across moats To pierce the archer's armor, armed with arrows Pole points from elbows, where joints join with marrow To maim, the tip of the arrows lit with flame Checkmate - the death of your king ends the game