Yo, you don't hustle hard.
You borrowed your mother's car, heard your new shit and it blew.
avatar coming through like a matador ready to rip your motherfucking esophagus right out of your blood you you
with a blade moving in and out of your damage in your interior till they stick me in that car
Bitch, you a savage.
You're savvy.
You're sciatic.
Can't get your blood bubbling like a fucking Alka-Seltzer tablet.
Grab it.
Hannibal, I'd be reconnected.
Romance to cannibalize your whole set in your sector.
I don't need a banter.
My style
is an orphan, but of course I'm blowing shit up on my endorphins.
That might be more often, because when the truth
is distortion they feed us little bits of info so the blood was softened an abortion of awesome proportions of all but they applaud while they close the
coffee the downward spiral has gone viral disobey and you exist in exile
Make way for the godless and vile.
Ladies and gentlemen, your American Idol.
Oh, my God.
The minute that I step and see a sinner's worst confession, having scriptures burning flames held by ministers in breakfast.
Belligerent and reckless, women's silhouettes and blessing.
While I throw the broad bands like an internet connection.
Rappers building street prayer from sitting in attention.
Say they killers on the record, so we kill them on the record.
Giant misconception of the way they run and operate.
I'll beat you fruits to pulp until you motherfuckers concentrate.
With socks, a pocket change, assassinate you on the saves.
That ain't my radar.
If I spot you, then I'm dropping weight.
You cannot debate and measure by the clock that may replace your eyes and testicles.
It's nuts to see you populate.
It's hip-hop that I drop tons to the top.
I change but not gonna block my rhyme slot.
I am not in the frame.
Your incompetent cock flocks think you're rocking the chains, gonna rock on your fame to top spots.
You are not in your lane.
The downward spiral has gone viral Disobey and you exist in exile
Make way for the godless empire Ladies and gentlemen, your American Idol
What's going on?
Welcome back to the abyss of mindlessness.
The scientists show emcees what time it is.
There's no truth in the transmission.
You want to double talk?
Great, then I'll half listen.
You ain't as hard as you claim that you are.
Your shit is PG.
You swear to God that you rated R. You ain't on par, so please pardon the bars.
Part of me wants to laugh harder, be like Hardy, ha, ha.
Stupid, is it stupid?
Does anybody can see?
Because won't they follow the leader?
But good to take what they're feeding.
There's no leaders leading, let's just lean in on us.
Anonymous carbon copies on the airwaves in America don't eat it up.
These MCs are fast food designed to fill you up, but leave nothing in your system when they pass through.
Calories bragging about the salaries.
But in reality, y'all ain't paid one single due.
The downward spiral has gone viral.
Disobey and you exist in exile.
Make way for the godless and vile.
Ladies and gentlemen, your American Idol.
