Guess who’s back?
Who?
The prodigal sun—these pieces packing a punch, supplying smoke that make em choke, I roll em up, keep it blunt. precision pickin apart opponents, placing em in a pile, parading past petty players, perfecting power with style. projecting proof in the pen, prophetic visions get vile, pathetic posers get bent, I line em up in a file, correct the aim in the scope, crescendo rain on em, whoa, the pressure on em they fold, the pressure on me I rose, the pavement cracked when I spoke, enlightened minds when I woke, been writing rhymes in these notes, somehow they know me, the goat —immaculate flow, Shiiiit, that’s how I mastered the mode, on legendary difficulty, fuck the status they quote, I managed to grow, from nothing, came from lacking and broke, I took the table, made a plate and sat my ass on the throne, they ask what I’m on, I tell em run that back in a song, they circle round to figure out that’s just the way that I’m known, the weight of my soul, a page could never capture the whole, I redefine and reinvent, create a path to belong, reminded me of how it was to walk this path on my own, for all the times I powered through with only passion alone, turned the silence to an anthem, made the struggle my home, every setback was a setup, every crack was a stone, built the bridge with my blood, then I passed it along, from ramen noodles every night to the heights I’ve been shown, came up from humble now the way I move is setting the tone, set it in stone, put my name in every bar that they clone, repeat my lines between the lines, until the legend is known….and it goes— alpha omega, put these betas in a casket, tested my patience now u gettin what u asked bitch, ya last breath would be the day I put in action, I been asleep — boy u don’t want me to get active. I been a beast—boy, u ain’t robin me for jack shit, these cyborgs chatting in robotic whack shit, while I start a fire, raving multi genre rap hits, bitch, u can’t match me when i tighten up the syllables, slay da back talk when i talk back it’s lyrical, wordplay, double ensemble, assemble spirituals to show these motherfuckers they can’t out peak the pinnacle. Bitch
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr
MIXEY
