This some lyrical shit. Beat by some homie called Underground Beats that I don't know. Peace.
Story behind the song
Lyrical shit is what I do, so this is your run of the mill, dope as fuck, Scarr track.
Lyrics
I defy you to try to look me in my grill/
You'll be in the face of death and find you can't kill/
Take your last breath, you could feel for that steel/
But that's far-fetched, I leave wounds that don't heal/
We choose what you feel/
We ooze with pure skill/
So inspirational to make the Queen use a new seal/
Reinvent the wheel, prematurely dawn a new era/
From Earth exiled, child born of pure terror/
There's few better, and we durable like titanium/
Think this is rage? The fury's all in my cranium/
Steady buildin' up, and ready to explode/
I'm sick of you pricks all over my meat like Bisto/
And sick of you all, who can't overstand real rhymes/
Proclaimed lyricists, but yet you feel you need to steal lines/
I don't stop writin', cuz idle hands do the Devil's work/
Stay still and watch for my steel, cuz hot metal hurts/
It's believed when I was conceived, God actually trembled/
Saw the power in my mind, and his own was resembled/
Conflicted, he restricted it to the microphone/
The result was verses that rivalled the Bible's own/
Words are weapons, the pen is mightier than the sword/
Wars were won by havin' my rhymes recited over chords/
Crime was fighted down in hordes, that's the power of words/
It takes an advanced MC's chants to devour these verbs/
Heaven disperses as I reach the great gate/
7 curses of 7 prophets, they preached as I wait/
They started to look to me, to feed the flock seed/
More than just a man, it's me, who made the rock bleed/
On the mic I'm spittin', it's so ridiculously versatile/
You got to listen, because I think it might be worth ya while/
The birth of style is here, the mystery's unravelled/
As a matter of course, the lyrical horse must be saddled/
I've travelled to the 4 corners of the fuckin' universe/
Pulsars, Black Stars, these experiences fine tune my verse/
For you it's worse, cuz you can't afford to cross the best/
Chainsaws across ya face, and stained swords across ya chest/
A word to the wise, to the obselete from the divine/
Gotta control ya whole goal, Hiphop's elite thunder is mine/
My use of language takes hiphop beyond rhymin'/
While you scary peons, are barely beyond whinin'/
When I'm in control it don't rain, it don't pour/
It hails, with tales passed down in folklore/
I wanna choke ya'll, claimin' to be ghetto but sippin' brandy/
Run up wit' a machete...and leave you bleedin' badly/
You gonna get killed/
You gonna taste my steel/
This raps pill/
To leave ya cap peeled/
And that's real...far too ill to feel/
You can't pull my hoe card until it's been dealed/
Fakeness revealed, but you'll probably still hide it/
Wait till you pass then kick ya fuckin' face in - cuz I feel like it/
Ya'll regret, tryna fare against my likes/
Left wit' tha rest, too scared to touch a mic/