Dead Emvee

(Intro)

I may be new hear but fuck it.

Yeah…

West Coast soul, no costum

Let’s be clear.

(Hook)

They say kings need a crown, I just need a pen

Truth don’t need Auto-Tune to hit the end

I move quiet, let the bars go crazy

You loud for the moment, Emvee, that’s temporary

Yeah

No reverb on the truth I speak

No filter when they mention me

You chasing noise, I’m building legacy

Different lanes — don’t step to me (me)

(Verse 1)

Emvee talk big but the depth real shallow

All flash, no marrow in the bone you borrow

Cosplay rage, but the pain feel rented

I can hear the edits where the soul got censored

You melodic but it’s missing conviction

I’m poetic with precision, different diction

I don’t need a hook screaming “I’m the best” (I’m the best)

My verses make the room take a breath (gasp)

You want idols, rivals, viral attention

I want silence when the beat get mentioned

West Coast roots, yeah I studied the greats

You chasing eras, I’m updating the plates (tire screech)

(Hook repeat)

They say kings need a crown, I just need a pen

Truth don’t need Auto-Tune to hit the end

I move quiet, let the bars go crazy

You loud for the moment, Emvee, that’s temporary

No reverb on the truth I speak

No filter when they mention me

You chasing noise, I’m building legacy

Different lanes — don’t step to me (you)

(Verse 2)

You confuse aggression with being authentic

Yelling in a mic don’t make it prophetic

I hear the anger, but where’s the direction?

Volume ain’t power, it’s misdirection

Boom-bap heart with a modern swing

I bend the pocket, let the rhythm breathe

You stacking styles hoping one’ll land

I make one sound and they know who I am

Emvee, listen — this ain’t hate, it’s clarity

Your image loud but the bars lack gravity

I don’t diss for clicks or reaction clips

I diss ‘cause you spoke like you’re untouchable — you slipped (slipped) (slipped)

(Bridge)

You sing like the truth gonna save you now

But melody can’t cover empty ground

I let the silence talk between the lines

That’s why my words age better like wine

(Final Verse)

This ain’t a war, it’s a contrast study

You perform emotion, I actually bloody

The page with experience, nights I survived

Not every scar need to be dramatized

West Coast soul, yeah I carry that tradition

Not the costume, the condition

So when they play this back years from today

They’ll hear the difference in what we say (say)

You wanted smoke, I gave you weather

Pressure with purpose, bars with measure

Emvee, this lesson ain’t personal, see

It’s what happens when you aim high and look up to me

(Outro)

No crown needed.

No edits needed.

Just truth. (Truth)