Just me statin some thoughts... was actually done long ago, i just got back the final copy of it... Lyrics will be on the lyrics page....
Ramblings of a 16 year old idiot
Rah The MC - 16 year old with a mic, and a habit of saying stupid shit.
Lyrics
No standin next to me, i'm breakin ya necks
Because the fantasies of what you people plan to be
Has tainted ya text
Yall Gainin Respect? Never is done, ahead of you cunts
Upset with a grudge, rap is just my weapon for fun
Unless yall gon run, just fold and settle
This century 21, We keep guns, fuck bows and arrows
Just learn how to let go, i'm just stating the facts
Pricks dislike, but all these niggas hatin me wack
Adjacent to that, some other guys may quit
Take disses off they soundclick, mad they sound ain't click
These frauds ain't shit, I'm highly motivated to expose
Go head and get close, And ya body be stiched closed
I'm itchin to kill quick, So listen to real shit
Writing with the flu don't make you the definition of illness
No Gimmicks here, Horsemen Enforcer
A solider for order, and though hated a noted composer
I'll pass rounds, we clash, you'll splash down
And make you silent entities by bringin the mack out
Yall act foul, rappers hope that i leave
But Rah's the sun god, ain't no growth without me
Dispise and hate me, my tracks make these guys go crazy
Their raps vegetate and die like that Schivo lady
Suprising lately, At me these pricks been pumpin their fists
Mad their punches like their initials, Basically Nothing Exists
Rah spit that noxious gas, yall not gon last
Ownin niggas like white cops now that Cochran passed
So stop it fags, and witness this sentence
Half you rappers like unfertilized eggs, missin division
How you witnessin the ressurection done by my pack
We old, how the future if you ain't learn from the past
Yall yearnin to blast, but stop this is urgent in fact
Punches like injesting spicy food, always burnin ya ass
And yeah, the flow is sporadic, i'm noted for madness
Freestyle kings? All yall shit is wrote off a pad pricks
This is some crass shit at 2 bastards
Runnin shit? Ain't that a sex term for faggots?
This my better half and been designin shit nice
And Death Clock's soon, still havin the time of my life
Seems like i'm rambling, you pricks shouldn't fear it
Yall know the beat, not the words, yall don't listen to lyrics
Empty ya Spirit, Yall slumped, face down
And have ya mom mourning... shit like when the sun breaks out
If yall don't listen i'm dope, i'll slit at ya throat
And have masses at ya door like catholics missin the pope
Not in a position to boast, and yall might be mad
But nothin tops my shit , like I don't wipe my ass
Horsemen
