Your shit is pop like pop rocks with joke rhymes like knock knocks
Who got props? The kid who's rising like hot stocks
In a bear market, watch as I spark it like a Zippo
Emcees is hungry like hippos but ignore when I flip those
Lyrical flapjacks your mack raps are so droll
So as I stroll down memory lane y'all was so-so
Wack production with no original intent
Results in a bullshit release and the sales don't make a dent
In the money that you're oweing so your mama's hoeing
Try to pay the bills with no skills and no flowing
Experience is vital but if you worshipping idols like money
It's fucking funny how a dummy like you raps like a mummy
Your shit is bummy, and your exterior ain't calm
Stressing on your broke ass like broke glass from a neutron bomb
So as you taste defeat and make to meet your maker
I'll break a beat so take a seat you motherfucking faker
Don't even start with me you can't dishearten me by showing me
All the bullshit records hitting hard from artists that's blowing the
Dick of their collective disrespective record labels
Telling fables of large money when their ass is getting set up to be shot
POP POP to 2 that flocked and sold some units
The brothers behind the triggers serving their rulers like some eunuchs
So Mista Puffy No Nuts smiled when he saw those guts
'Cause artists make the most money when they're dead, and their family's fucked
Who's screaming conspiracy? Not me, but please see
Who has got the most to benefit from a bullet in an emcee?
Do ya feel me? Nothing can save you
'Cause this is the season of some ill ass behavior
Fuck the set up by my producer if that happens it's suicide
And no motherfuckas left wondering how the fuck I died
My mouth is bitter from the nasty taste of defeat
Put your money where your gun is, and keep that shit up off the street
Take a seat
Let me give you a chair for your fat ass 'cause I need to explain something
I've been in this for years through tears heartache and bluffing
I never got shook by an emcee with a quicker styler than me they bore me
I be the creative one of the bunch eating suckers for lunch blah blah blah end of story
So what's happened to the unfortunate few, the unfortunate crews that faced me
I defaced statues of their mothers brothers and others closely related ('till they hated me)
Then I embarass them in public with polysyllabic rhymes
While their monochromatic topic choices get squashed in these highly developed lines
Artists and partisans can't claim to be harder than the hardest bends and
Twists and turns in these lyrical mazes diasporic behaviors by Laze it's
Yet another corner of the style that Bone Thugs couldn't harmonize
And others digging they way straight to Hell as they watch my Buddhist karma rise
So what's the next plateau for me like Ultramag's first release
Cure a disease? Oh brother please, been there done that and ate the feast
My lyrics tick like sand in the hourglass and I expand these beats
'Till they burst at the seams things ain't what they seem remember that when we meet
Take a seat
Your shit is pop like pop rocks with joke rhymes like knock knocks
Who got props? The kid who's rising like hot stocks
In a bear market, watch as I spark it like a Zippo
Emcees is hungry like hippos but ignore when I flip those
Lyrical flapjacks your mack raps are so droll
So as I stroll down memory lane y'all was so-so
Wack production with no original intent
Results in a bullshit release and the sales don't make a dent
In the money that you're oweing so your mama's hoeing
Try to pay the bills with no skills and no flowing
Experience is vital but if you worshipping idols like money
It's fucking funny how a dummy like you raps like a mummy
Your shit is bummy, and your exterior ain't calm
Stressing on your broke ass like broke glass from a neutron bomb
So as you taste defeat and make to meet your maker
I'll break a beat so take a seat you motherfucking faker
Don't even start with me you can't dishearten me by showing me
All the bullshit records hitting hard from artists that's blowing the
Dick of their collective disrespective record labels
Telling fables of large money when their ass is getting set up to be shot
POP POP to 2 that flocked and sold some units
The brothers behind the triggers serving their rulers like some eunuchs
So Mista Puffy No Nuts smiled when he saw those guts
'Cause artists make the most money when they're dead, and their family's fucked
Who's screaming conspiracy? Not me, but please see
Who has got the most to benefit from a bullet in an emcee?
Do ya feel me? Nothing can save you
'Cause this is the season of some ill ass behavior
Fuck the set up by my producer if that happens it's suicide
And no motherfuckas left wondering how the fuck I died
My mouth is bitter from the nasty taste of defeat
Put your money where your gun is, and keep that shit up off the street
Take a seat
Let me give you a chair for your fat ass 'cause I need to explain something
I've been in this for years through tears heartache and bluffing
I never got shook by an emcee with a quicker styler than me they bore me
I be the creative one of the bunch eating suckers for lunch blah blah blah end of story
So what's happened to the unfortunate few, the unfortunate crews that faced me
I defaced statues of their mothers brothers and others closely related ('till they hated me)
Then I embarass them in public with polysyllabic rhymes
While their monochromatic topic choices get squashed in these highly developed lines
Artists and partisans can't claim to be harder than the hardest bends and
Twists and turns in these lyrical mazes diasporic behaviors by Laze it's
Yet another corner of the style that Bone Thugs couldn't harmonize
And others digging they way straight to Hell as they watch my Buddhist karma rise
So what's the next plateau for me like Ultramag's first release
Cure a disease? Oh brother please, been there done that and ate the feast
My lyrics tick like sand in the hourglass and I expand these beats
'Till they burst at the seams things ain't what they seem remember that when we meet
Take a seat
Your shit is pop like pop rocks with joke rhymes like knock knocks
Who got props? The kid who's rising like hot stocks
In a bear market, watch as I spark it like a Zippo
Emcees is hungry like hippos but ignore when I flip those
Lyrical flapjacks your mack raps are so droll
So as I stroll down memory lane y'all was so-so
Wack production with no original intent
Results in a bullshit release and the sales don't make a dent
In the money that you're oweing so your mama's hoeing
Try to pay the bills with no skills and no flowing
Experience is vital but if you worshipping idols like money
It's fucking funny how a dummy like you raps like a mummy
Your shit is bummy, and your exterior ain't calm
Stressing on your broke ass like broke glass from a neutron bomb
So as you taste defeat and make to meet your maker
I'll break a beat so take a seat you motherfucking faker
Don't even start with me you can't dishearten me by showing me
All the bullshit records hitting hard from artists that's blowing the
Dick of their collective disrespective record labels
Telling fables of large money when their ass is getting set up to be shot
POP POP to 2 that flocked and sold some units
The brothers behind the triggers serving their rulers like some eunuchs
So Mista Puffy No Nuts smiled when he saw those guts
'Cause artists make the most money when they're dead, and their family's fucked
Who's screaming conspiracy? Not me, but please see
Who has got the most to benefit from a bullet in an emcee?
Do ya feel me? Nothing can save you
'Cause this is the season of some ill ass behavior
Fuck the set up by my producer if that happens it's suicide
And no motherfuckas left wondering how the fuck I died
My mouth is bitter from the nasty taste of defeat
Put your money where your gun is, and keep that shit up off the street
Take a seat
Let me give you a chair for your fat ass 'cause I need to explain something
I've been in this for years through tears heartache and bluffing
I never got shook by an emcee with a quicker styler than me they bore me
I be the creative one of the bunch eating suckers for lunch blah blah blah end of story
So what's happened to the unfortunate few, the unfortunate crews that faced me
I defaced statues of their mothers brothers and others closely related ('till they hated me)
Then I embarass them in public with polysyllabic rhymes
While their monochromatic topic choices get squashed in these highly developed lines
Artists and partisans can't claim to be harder than the hardest bends and
Twists and turns in these lyrical mazes diasporic behaviors by Laze it's
Yet another corner of the style that Bone Thugs couldn't harmonize
And others digging they way straight to Hell as they watch my Buddhist karma rise
So what's the next plateau for me like Ultramag's first release
Cure a disease? Oh brother please, been there done that and ate the feast
My lyrics tick like sand in the hourglass and I expand these beats
'Till they burst at the seams things ain't what they seem remember that when we meet
Take a seat