I’m not the rap lord But I master tracks Big ups Guru, you straight mastered that, This beat is bottled magic Homie your death was tragic But I came to follow the throne, hope you let me have it, I’ll straight body bag it, If given the opportunity I’m sicker than Ebola and you ain’t got the immunity to deal with me, I’ll melt you down into your elements I gotta say the games players now are irrelevant Stop that nonsense Read that fine print and weep Regret fuckin with the best and take that eternal sleep, Y’all like sheep getting sheared They say my rhyme styles weird, Forever punting rappers into the atmosphere
Me and my best friends wear letterman’s cause we veterans and better than most of ya’ll tethered to news from the weathermen Catch another prime piece of venison with weapons prepping soon to be evidence of negligence You might fold under questioning Breathe another sedative cause this theory’s relative the way I be chasing hoes with a little bit of melanin Remembering the ones who got to dismembering my heart Now I’m made of iron rap game Tony Stark Joan of Arc up in the Ozark got my semi starting to bark Hit you with a few now you see the dark cause I just never miss my mark Paved the way with bodies lined with chalk sometimes I think some of them still try to talk Motherfucker I’m just trying to take a walk Not for my legs but for my Glock
Isaiah 6:1-3 King James Version 6 In the year that king Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple.
