Lyrics
Sittin inside a room, plotting plans could plot
Sickest written rhymes couldn’t fit inside of a tomb
Kill it, kicking shit like a fetus inside a womb
They tryna gas me up but they couldn’t fuck with the fumes
Then let’s cover your face like you MF DOOM
See this dark skinned kid from the dark side of the moon
Stay on top of this cake like a wax bride and a groom
Blowing up like birthday balloons
But we never going 'pop!'
Stop, this hip hop, nah we rock
Better think again thinkin' you better, I think not
You wouldn’t have a shot if your hands was holdin' a Glock
If your day job was a doctor I’m takin them out the picture
Rappers is getting cropped in my square like it’s hop scotch
Back like DeLoreans, black rap euphoria
Walled up historia
The, the, the glorious
The, the, the glorious
Born in the mid-80's they say, «he so crazy»
Like Martin in the 90's or when he went really crazy
Meanwhile my style too wild for them to tame me
Shoulder cold as the arctic, flow hotter than Hades
A barber couldn’t fade me, you hate cause you can’t break me
I put your favourite artist in the garbage with Brenda’s baby
Watch me take it back on some repo shit
If you heard this offer say, you delete your shit
Wonder why you can’t hang with me
I been lynching, I’m servin' I for mics like I’m pen pimpin'
You been slipping I been raising the bar like I been benching
You fuckin' with a king like a Martin Luther mistress
In the cut, like stitches spitting like a pitcher flow
Spillin' like a pitcher filled up with water, get the picture?
Back like DeLoreans, black rap euphoria
Walled up historia
The, the, the glorious
Yo, Chi Town round demolisher
Might jump on your song wit ya, barely acknowledge ya
Hot as a fever I don’t need a thermometer
Raw as a pack of Ramen before you pour in the water
Sicken they bring us orders, leading pigs to the slaughter
Watching that rat burn like I’m in a class with Arthur
Swinging through your city sorta like I’m Peter Parker
I’m a motherfucker like that man who fucked your granny’s daughter
What the plan? man flying like the saucer
Versus getting bodied, mind missing like
You ain’t in my class, you rappers is playin' hookie
My pen puncture the paper, you punks can’t push me
Ahead of my time, lines go over heads like hoodies
Eat beats like Doug more than Wayne eat pussy
Beyond focus I chase ghosts, you ain’t notice?
My eyes open, y’all blind dates for Frank Ocean
Bitch
