BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
74 lines
- Yo —I felt a fight approachin’, tension closin’ in its orbit,
- but kids a joke —I’m just exposin’ him, let UNO know the truth:
- your writin’s so unfocused it’s atrocious, hopeless,
- generic to the bone like every note was ghost‑script.
- Some past battles? Yeah, they were close, I’ll own it —
- but this one ends with your body thrown in a hole where the stone is.
- What’s a “titan” to a “joke,” when the moment gets explosive?
- I got your coffin measured —stand beside it,
- watch you choke while this writer gets corroded.
- You rhyme like you ain’t ever trained phonics,
- no logic, stray topics, straight comic —
- your lines wander like the page’s breakin’ from the weight on it.
- Another “special” gettin’ killed —
- 007 still —I aim proper, lift your spirit, take the shot,
- soul exit —no problem.
- I’m cold‑hearted —froze solid,
- ancient snow fallin’ —a whole blizzard in my bones talkin’.
- And people still duck my pad to this day —ironic —
- ’cause you’re the one with the low ceiling
- claimin’ you’re a “vet,” ranked with the best,
- till you stepped in the ring with The Great Nate
- and watched your claim collapse under stress.
- It was great for a sec —
- then you turned “next lame,” bent outta shape, a real pain in the neck,
- brain is a wreck, deranged, distressed —
- hallucinatin’ unchecked ’til the meds kick in,
- claimin’ “your art speaks to you”…
- nah bro —those voices aren’t real, quit pretendin’.
- Talked about success —“heavyweight on the threads,”
- but really you spend every day on the Web,
- 28 with no friends,
- heavy set, heavy breaths —
- you ain’t makin’ your steps,
- just makin’ excuses, fakin’ your rep,
- ashamed and depressed —
- hang up the pen,
- no one relates to the pages you’ve bled.
- Basement creations ain’t amazin’ or blessed —
- you’re just obsessed, repressin’ regrets,
- livin’ stressed with no sex, no progress, no checks —
- I dissect every defect,
- every weakness you defend just feeds death.
- With this diss dialect I leave zeros with two options:
- Move silent —fight the feral voices in your conscience —
- or face exposure like the emperor’s robes —
- naked truths, no cloth hidin’ your nonsense.
- Friendly or enemy close —it’s a coin flip,
- you’re a snake with poison you spit,
- can’t appreciate the depth of the koi fish,
- FYI —starin’ is rude,
- so I toss cheer into the void quick —boy, this
- shit is harder to explain than the struggle you avoidin’.
- But when it comes to bars?
- This lyricist is the hardest in existence,
- haters can’t knock it —it’s all about who aims the farthest,
- and The Great Nate carved this target,
- locked the game down —name carved in the cartridge,
- pumped in your veins —sharp as a blade in the darkness.
- Make no mistake —I’ll make you a heartless no‑brainer,
- rip out the heart, then the brain —
- watch the blood waterfall like rainstorms breakin’ the plains —
- I got faith the whole world’ll feel me
- like drops of rain engravin’ their names
- in the dirt where your coffin lays.
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