BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
RapPad Politics
- Wish for a helix or elixir, sure thing, I'm stirrin' the pot, which
- Is because of incidents that made the site actively haunted
- We had people entombed forever, never to be found, they vanished without a trace
- But they were the right people
- So now at least it rests upon the right hands and eyes
- X Factor is the flower that bloomed after Auto died
- People who have no place in the underworld til they decided to step into this stream
- With backstories occurring, walking around with no idea who their competition could be
- Or what could happen, cause they still insulated from the larger world they inhabit
- That’s why the Mexican cartel worships Death and think it will protect them
- Until the Grim Reaper shows up and tell them nobody’s exempt son
- Including the damn website
- Hopped on a fast jet flight, you got something chasing you that'll catch up one day
- Someday these tyros catch a sun blaze and turn they ass into a blood stain
- Insane shit reaches the front page, uh, me and the homies in the know remain unswayed
- And unscathed, they're too wet in the ears for Gunplay, slugs grazin,' my shit is garnished, your trigger's a flop
- So if you wanna hold it against me then fuckin' give it a shot
- And they try to make a hook, her john caught in this bitch, who the fuck is John Rappad? Con job in this shit
- X Factor conquest vs. the KKKK crusade, it's a jihad, folks runnin' and watchin' who moves weight
- Fuck a red flag homie it's a blue flame, time to raise the tomb straight up for this site
- If Crispy's allegations were like true claims, he'd be shining under the moon ay
- Bitch it's Doomsday, I don't mean KO but damn, you've been loading for like a year now
- There's no way the K clique has a whip like Kalli said on False Spectaclez, plus Amir prowls
- And attacks biannually to do wack shit like the feature rule while reapin' Rappad tragically
- Bet this amigo got a leg up like a flamingo tryna get some shut eye, but I'm
- Hangin’ off the ledge, too high up to fall, even when I’m upside down I’m still above you all
- Cause I’m so hard to catch when I touch a wall, like it’s fire the way I vault that pole
- Smooth as butter like I got mad dough, long as I’m rising I don’t need/knead to goddamn fold
- Reaching the cloud, fuck Windows, we in dark ass mode
- Still got a couple more pop ups ‘cross the yard line
- I might need another slider for this hard drive
- You lead the league in home runs since you jog slash bolt to yo cave, say you brave but you’re not that bold
- All these green plug uglies in a combat role, yo ass couldn’t escape me using a combat roll
- .Com bat roll, damn, site pollution, boutta square it away though, what's the solution
- Some duct tape, alcohol, matches, a broom handle, and a bag that’s the size of a gallon, a pipe and a threaded cap for each side
- And then crack a passageway right through the back and then slide the strand and igniter inside
- And fasten it tight with some candlewax so it binds, and then wipe it bright with isopropyl
- Then attach the primary cap and pack all the camping matches inside of a canvas packet and drive
- ‘Em nice with a sandled pine handlin’ spike and tamp em, then stack all the light
- Fiber paddin’ ‘less you usin’ some cotton waddin’ across the top and a strand riding past the outside
- Add a flap and then slide the white wire, cram it inside of the wider passage, a spiral line
- And then pass it and guide it by sight or hand while it glides through a loose latch in the fine lined gap in the pipe
- Fill it with black powder and slam it and ram it, align it, attach and then tie it, line it, and fasten it, time it just right then
- //Outro//
- Kaboom, yeah
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