BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
casinofreak response 1
- i heard this dude dissed the label with bars he never read, looks like he wrote that shit from a bathroom with an iphone pro
- on a folding stool in a coat he stole, casino betting rent on a parlay, throwing shade at MTD label like we did him wrong
- bro, you diss what you asked to be signed to, boutta throw darts at your whole arc
- your flow got the grace of a boat park crash, just old fart jokes in a coat from Kohl’s, and i know marks
- like him, provo posts and a broken poker app, homie owes Bovada so much his phone won’t open without a loan from gofundme
- you said you clip heads off with machetes the size of elephant spines, even your similes lie
- you’re knee deep in bad writing that bleeds each line into a meme, i can’t believe you compared yourself to god
- and then threatened us with a cactus and gun, i craft mine with a lean speed, pristine technique
- you scream and unleash weak shit with a bed sheet hung from a green screen
- you’re not ready to see me, i leave more heat in a 16 than your weak shit leaked in a complete week
- you try to hiss and get plaque psoriasis, weird flex bro, i hope your dental plan sees these
- i don’t need to squeeze twin beams like i’m streamin' a scene outta Steam on extreme pc speeds just to seem elite
- that whole thing reads like it’s weed themed with a need to bleed, but you freeze when you meet fatigue
- you said you war torn like north yemen, bro please, you wore denim to a sword lesson, and tore tendons
- when you tripped over a floor gremlin, you bore venom like lore written by 14 year olds with a forum addiction
- you store weapons in tactical shelves, i store sessions in actual stems with levels and clefs
- you’re seven percent of a sentence that never developed or bled, you can’t even drag a zip file
- you compress rage in a vest with a knockoff logo stitched over your chest, you ain’t possessed, you’re just pressed
- i don’t need to address your threats, you press keys with the energy of a stressed teen who’s sweaty
- from yellin’ about art while the desk creaks, i’m glad you see yourself in something completely useless to a human being in a street level feud
- you can’t compute with the root of MTD, i confuse you with a chew toy covered in glue
- my crew moves through rooms too deep for your speeches to leak through, you need two cheat sheets just to preview what we d
- i guess you go bad fast, and end up cold in a fridge for a week too, said you spit so hot it freezes
- that don’t even mean truth, that’s a reach, like preachin’ in deep pools with your knees glued to the seat in a preschool
- your shit is see through, full of cheap doomsday speech, i don’t need to peek through to see you were preset with pre cooked beef stew
- bro said he gon spray the weapon, must’ve meant a rusty paintball gun he found under a bunk bed
- cause the last time he bust, it was gum on a drum pad stuck with a crust from a lunch tray stunt set
- you can’t touch threats, a crumbled sub thread, no substance except a bump in a group text thread
- that you sub run monthly from a bunked up custom android with a cracked port, USB duct taped shut and a crushed screen
- must mean trust ain’t touched you since you rushed a punch scheme in a group cypher and got flushed clean
- said don’t poke the bear, bitch you barely a plush bean, i’ve seen more muscle in a thumbtack stuck in a sunbeam
- you ain’t a grizzly, gonna crumble your front teeth, saying you’ll pull something, cool, pull up a drum seat
- sit in it, listen and hush, i’m from the cut, punch schemes into dusty Akai pads with a rubber band touch screen
- and plus you stumbled through one beat clumsier than Funyuns in a lunch meet
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