MY SONS

Verse 1

Everybody my son, I don’t even debate it,

Whole scene sound like my old rough draft, outdated.

They drop and I yawn, that’s not even hatred,

That’s just me bored of the bars they created.

I ain’t impressed, I’m barely awake,

Half of y’all careers built off my mistakes.

I experiment once, y’all copy for years,

Then call it a “wave” like I wasn’t the spear.

I sneeze on a beat, it’s a seasonal shift,

Y’all freeze on a bar like you seen a gift.

I don’t compete, I condition the room,

Soon as I breathe, everybody assume.

Verse 2

They want a response, I don’t feel provoked,

You diss for attention, I breathe and you choke.

I don’t need smoke, I am the climate,

Every time I rap, temperature violent.

They study my flow like finals in May,

I freestyle better than your album day.

Everybody my son, and I don’t co-parent,

You borrowed the style and made it apparent.

They call it “inspired,” I call it recycled,

I changed the cycle, y’all stuck in a cycle.

You need validation, I need ventilation,

Too many clones in my circulation.

Verse 3

Cocky? Yeah. Careless? Definitely.

Still the best option objectively.

They scream “GOAT” but it sound like rehearsal,

I breathe one verse, it’s universal.

They ask for a feature, I ask for a fee,

Then double the price ‘cause it’s coming from me.

I don’t shake hands, I redesign deals,

My silence louder than half of they reels.

They want a war, I don’t even spar,

You shadowboxing a shooting star.

I don’t throw shots, I tilt the stage,

Make everybody else look underage.

Verse 4

Half of these rappers my side quests,

I don’t remember they names, I just guess.

They build personas, I build presence,

They chase hype, I bend dimensions.

Every time I drop, somebody recalculating,

Like “why his throwaways still dominating?”

I don’t rush bars, I marinate lines,

Even my filler got better design.

They tweet like villains, rap like temps,

Every time I speak, it reset they attempts.

I don’t chase beef, I walk past cattle,

Whole career fragile, mine titanium-plated metal.

Verse 5

Everybody my son, no daycare needed,

You rap for applause, I rap undefeated.

You want the throne? Cool, take a seat,

It’s decorative — I stand on beats.

I don’t argue, I escalate,

Every verse I drop recalibrate.

Careless with it, but calculated,

Even my throwaways gold-plated.

I don’t need promo, I am the push,

Whole timeline freeze when I just look.

You want a crown? Go print one out,

Mine came natural, no doubt.

Verse 6

I move like I’m bored of being elite,

Like this whole app just practice for me.

They try to gang up, I multiply,

Every clone I see just prove I’m prime.

I don’t beef down, I punch up time,

My competition yesterday’s headline.

They think they next, I’m still now,

Difference between hype and know-how.

Everybody my son, that’s lineage talk,

You learned how to rap from the way that I walk.

Careless grin, immaculate pen,

I don’t even try and I still transcend.