BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
Untitled Song
- You lookin at Atilla
- The psychopathic killer, the caterpillar
- Don't tell me when I'm supposed to rap until
- Especially when your favorite rapper isn't even half as ill
- A savage still, the tracks a banana peel, attack of the silverback gorilla
- You're havin' a little trouble fathomin' this is actually happenin'
- Like Anderson Silva when he snapped his shin in half
- And then had shit hangin' by a flap of skin
- After he tried to plant the shit back on the mat again
- Pad to pen I'm batty like eyelids when they're blinkin' a lot
- You copy me, but you're not
- You can't be butterflies
- My offspring's are just moths
- If I see that thing, I'ma squash it and rip the wings of it off
- So ring the alarm, pull the extinguishers off of the wall, set the sprinklers off
- Like Jada Pinkett and Queen Latifah, 'til the shingles come off the roof
- We'll shatter the ceilings
- Slaughterhouse in the building, middle fingers aloft
- Say what I think when I rhyme, in ink pen I talk
- And the language I speak is my mind
- Kingpin and Penguin combined
- Spit like it's King of the Dot
- A singular thought I'd think I would help you distinguish
- A brother from the cream of the crop
- Wait a minute, hold up
- Like a flash card
- Damn dog, is that copyin', or payin' homage?
- It's sad because dad taught you to rap as a damn toddler
- My dad is your grandfather
- I have to rehatch on you
- Come back as black wasp
- Half yellow jacket, you can't swat a
- Sasquatch dancin' on top of a ant,
- Trample it and stomp it, smash it and stand on it
- Dammit, I can't stop it
- The rap is a vag and I can't stop goin' in like a tampon in this bitch
- It's is manslaughter
- Stampin' out grasshoppers, you can't be no Rap Gods
- In fact you're exact opposites
- You make a wack song, and can't hold a candle
- But even Daniel san wax off, you jack offs
- Need to come to grips, like a hand job
- The boom bap is back with an axe to mumble rap
- Lumberjack with a hacksaw
- Number one, but my pencils are number two 'cause that's all I do with 'em
- Poop is my pseudonym
- On the john like a prostitute when I droppin' a deuce and
- When I'm producing them lyrical bowel movements
- These beats are like my saloons
- 'Cause these bars always got my stools in 'em
- And I don't need Metamucil to loosen them
- Bitch it is real like I pooped Jerusalem
- I'm 'bout to go spin another cocoon
- And I'm cuttin' you from your mother's womb then I'm flushin' you
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