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Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #5,856
Peak in subgenre #472
Author
Thomas
Rights
2005
Uploaded
January 20, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.2 MB • 128 kbps • 2:25
Story behind the song
Rappers that hate on my songs when talking about violence and guns.
Lyrics
Spinning atop the pinnacles of thought at its pure-est
Wrought from alchemical mixtures and psychic detergents
Equipped with principally frosty quips in resurgence
That’s frozen wit in a swollen ocean of thrice veiled currents
Of frothy spit
But heat the planet like its permanently burned in Sin
In-cinerate Steinbeck like Mics and Men
I’m so quick witted
Chilled... learned to build on my lessons.
Never discouraged even though they catching feelings from testing
Cuz they the best when never questioned about their transgressions
As misdirection
So reach for weapons and keep heaving them stones so heavy
Then step in my dominion and confess it you peasant.
Words competitors murdered emerged only in fury
My words of mercy killing them softly in quiet flurries
Absurdly they claiming they don’t feel me at all recently
Cuz I’ve exhausted the right to exalt my virtues.
Really?
It’s why I delight in the spite of my lines I write that hurt you.
Really.
“I got ya girl past curfew, so she’s late and coming home”
“I got tricks to perform, you turn tricks in a thong”
Is it just me or are these merely poor examples of disses
Opted instead for slights that might unbuckle the kids that listen
And be strapped in to the car seat of this rap business
Cuz alas, one car crash, and nap time is finished
Regardless if the windows tented or bullet proof vented
I remove tension when spit I venom but this isn’t me venting.
My bars are graphic.
Display any disparity like it was bar graphed twice
And magnified to illuminate the vices.
Divisive bitches curious about my incentives
To even say I’m so nice if I’m really that definitive
Maybe its cuz you speak likewise but claim to be inventive
Speaking of my rhymes with an undermined insight
Like it makes you the bold type in real life
Face it, that’s nonsense
Forget I could get your face split and caved in
And peep knowledge.
Your archetype of type faced shit contained flips
I could’ve written at age ten you whack bitch.So attention and listen up to anyone who wants to spit shit
It’s obvious you’re facing off against superior diction
And intellect AND skill sets AND that’s just the beginin
My mentalism is greater than penmanship of any dimensions
I am precision and form fitting like any liquid when spitting.
You get it?
Repeat me only with written permission
If that were true you’d never rhyme cuz it would never be given
I’d rather give incisions where your dick is and leave you disfigured
And make pussies out of you chicken shits that call yourself men
Turn to kittens and get bitten into divisions and turned crimson
My measure-ments are miraculous, resurrected, and Christian
I’ll let you think up your own synonyms (think forgiveness)
Plus I’m an expert on how text works so check the next verse
I deconstrcuted all your arguments with less work and fewer words
So who’s minuscule bitch?
You’re a sinful idiot
Spitting against a crucifix
Who usually fits in
As the crux upon which emerges all manifestations
Of subversive verbiage which is sicker than turds
When I shit disses and spit dissentary over your corpse.
Your reluctant rhymes rendered remedial and ridiculous
Untenable cuz you raps are about as fast as listlessness
Strong wills will still wilt under eons of nigh infinite
Disses I spit in increments of sixteen million digits
But you didn’t take no lifetime you diminish in minutes
Gone beyond recognition and irregardless of religion
Ask Derrida about the fine print I’m only concerned with the finish
My voice is an amazing vortex of orchestration
The origins of which was Africans on plantations
S’why it’s made slaves out of our whole population
And it’s why its necessary to station these verbal relationships
Cuz rappers like you think you actually deserve rotation on radio stations
hahahahahaha
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