Hahaaa who the fuck is this king without a crown, gotchu talking bout a business proposition, u a clown, tryna big step, sorry but I gotta let u down, request denied here’s a fuck u but I’ll say it with a smile
I ain’t got no respect for your fake ass statement, this the verse, where your work gets a live cremation. got u shook cuz u looking at your final destination, no such thing as a king who begs for appreciation, shit, u wrote the rulebook? cool, I’m here to break it, got you rappin bout me thinking that u really made it? Do u want your flowers now? I brought a shovel, u could take it, let me set it on your grave, as your burial arrangements, how the fuck u paved the path? when I ripped the fuckin pavement, how the fuck u do the math, when ur missing all the basics, how the fuck u say u rap, when ur slipping on the cadence, it goes rhyme scheme, punch lines, and clever observations, for example, so u say u got plays? but ur average is low. And ur rhyme schemes mid as far as veterans go, claiming legend, but your pen never threatened a soul, I see holes in your bars, they confessional, bro. And ur the “blueprint”? Im the boogeyman in ya basement, coming for your throne, better not get complacent, cuz u bout to lose it all, if ur bitch made adjacent, try to step into my lane? That’s a fatal location, I bend rhyme with the pen, let’s define what your aim is. U wanna fire shots, then shake hands and make friends, lil did u know thats not how u gain rep, if u shootin then its war, got no time for fake friends, im just settling the score, while i aim to take heads, 1 down, 2 down, 3 down, 4, ur down, he’s down, who wants, more? 1 clown, 2 clowns, 3 clowns, ded, anyone can get it, i ain’t even break a sweat bitch
don’t u ever say my name in ur lame ass shit, I say fuck ya whole world with the pattern of a dick, I say ur a whole lame and the pen game’s mid, if u want it we can get it, I don’t really give a shit
Keep on quoting me, don’t slip and get caught with the fade, ur not what u claim, thinking that ur lost in the fame, whole style artificial, i can see thru the glaze, i speak thru the noise, ripping off the mask from ya phase, u perform for the crowd, I perform for my name, u conform to the trends, I was born in the flames. I don’t play with illusions i don’t rap for the praise, I see ur anxious for ur spot, while I dismantle the game, and mantle ur name, the cautionary tales of a lame, i put squares in a box, I could picture ur frame, put u on a tee shirt where the stitch is engraved, “here lies a dumb bitch who didn’t think with his brain” u can’t son me bruh, I’m a whole other breed, ain’t ur nephew, if u don’t even follow the creed, I don’t owe u shit, but u don’t gotta concede, I need the exercise and dissing you’s my vocal release
don’t u ever say my name in ur lame ass shit, I say fuck ya whole world with the pattern of a dick, I say ur a whole lame and the pen game’s mid, if u want it we can get it, I don’t really give a shit
MIXEY
