Disstrack

I’m back with a bang, better get out the way,

Got a mouth full of venom and a debt to repay,

I’ve been stuck in the mud, now I’m stepping on gas,

While you’re talking that shit, I’m already past.

Quick with the wit, I’m a glitch in the matrix,

Sick with the pen, every sentence contagious,

You’re chasing the clout, I’m erasing the traces,

You’re making excuses, I’m making occasions.

Fuck all the noise, I’m allergic to bullshit,

Walk in the room and the whole place shifts,

You’re trying to flex but your whole shit’s counterfeit,

I’m cutting through the beat like a motherfucking chainsaw —

watch this.

I talk fast, think faster,

Disaster on the track, I’m a lyrical bastard,

No brakes, no fear, no time for the chatter,

If life’s throwing punches, I’m throwing them back harder.

Tick-tick-tick, hear the clock go mad,

Big bad mouth with a beat this fast,

Everybody wants smoke till the smoke gets thick,

Then they shut the fuck up when I talk like this.

I’m a caffeine-fuelled menace with a pen full of panic,

Mechanically manic, I’m damaging planets,

You’re standing and chatting, I’m planning the damage,

Then vanish — goddammit, I’m back in a second.

No gimmicks, no limits, I’m ripping the rhythm,

I’m flipping the syllables, killing the middle,

I’m little too cynical, fucking ridiculous,

Still gonna finish it quicker than you can say “wait.”

I don’t need luck, I’ve got timing,

Don’t need hype, I’m supplying,

Don’t need friends who are smiling

While secretly praying I’m dying.

So fuck that fake shit,

Fake smiles, fake handshakes,

Fake love, fake mates,

Fake promises people make.

I came from the “maybe,”

Turned “maybe” to “watch me,”

Turned “watch me” to “holy shit,”

Now everybody wants copies.

Slow it down—

Let ‘em breathe for a second.

Then—

Hit ‘em with a left-right,

Dead mic, red light,

Head high, midnight,

Pen strikes, dynamite,

Best bite, next fight,

No lie, get hyped,

Fuck trying to keep up—

you can’t keep pace with this.

I talk fast, think faster,

Disaster on the track, I’m a lyrical bastard,

No brakes, no fear, no time for the chatter,

If life’s throwing punches, I’m throwing them back harder.

Tick-tick-tick, hear the clock go mad,

Big bad mouth with a beat this fast,

Everybody wants smoke till the smoke gets thick,

Then they shut the fuck up when I talk like this.

Yeah.

Talk like this.

Walk like this.

Write one bar—

then fucking torch the whole track.