Feeling It Now (ft. -Vixlet-)

(Hook)

Yeah, I'm feeling it now

I don't know how,

Just feel like writing and rhyming

I don't really try

And I don't lie,

If I did the lyrics would hit the sky

I feel like nothing even though I know I am something just suffering

I have to get out

This hell makes me want to yell but I just hide it

This may be the best I've done,

Working and searching for rhymes to use during my prime

(Verse 1)

Man I know I'm slowly dying

Me and the flow ain't even trying

Motherfuckers say I got no rhyming

But I battle them they end up crying

It ain't worth fighting this piece of trash

Bet he doesn't have a stash of cash

Bet the motherfucker ain't ever touched grass

Although I clutched with the Mega Rap 2 I fucked up

Still wondering and searching for why I'm suffering death is lurking it's gonna eat my flesh

I've been trying to progress but the assholes keep giving me so much stress like stop trying to stop my fucking success

I'll make you upset as hell

If anyone reads my raps they can tell as soon as you battle me you say you're farewell

Motherfuckers be saying I can't fucking do anything

Well try doing everything I have my ankle twisted

But still committed to play so much fucking basketball till I fall

I'll give you all one fucking chance

To prove to yourself that you're not that bad

Hell why do I sound mad

I'm just a bit sad

(Hook)

Yeah, I'm feeling it now

I don't know how,

Just feel like writing and rhyming

I don't really try

And I don't lie,

If I did the lyrics would hit the sky

I feel like nothing even though I know I am something just suffering

I have to get out

This hell makes me want to yell but I just hide it

This may be the best I've done,

Working and searching for rhymes to use during my prime

(Verse 2)

Let's cut to the chase

You need to shut up,

You always have the worst ways to rap it's like you're a maze

I should fix that

Never mind I'm too hyped for this release

It's as nice as saying please or living in peace

Gonna try to stop me

You forgot you got no skill

And I do still

Get ready for the final kill

Who is next to get their head separated from their neck

Gonna spread the dread more?

If you do I promise your face will be flat on the floor

How's life for you kids?

You want to get turned into bits?

Or at least get a kick to the dick

I'm back on my bullshit

Still the illest motherfucker here

I'm still fucking real

Can't you see

I'll be all over the news

Meaning that I'm basically cool

Man I'm busy giving people the L

Truth be told half of you can't even spell

And you rap like hell

Don't even attempt to get fucking upset

Now's who's next to get the fucking dub not DubYa the bitch who's stupid

Now I ain't calling anyone out

Even if I did they would be downed and out for the count

(Hook)

Yeah, I'm feeling it now

I don't know how,

Just feel like writing and rhyming

I don't really try

And I don't lie,

If I did the lyrics would hit the sky

I feel like nothing even though I know I am something just suffering

I have to get out

This hell makes me want to yell but I just hide it

This may be the best I've done,

Working and searching for rhymes to use during my prime

(Verse 3 Part 1)

Have you seen the hate?

They don't know I'm great so I can flip the switch on Arete the prick

Don't think you can hide,

You can try

But you will die

And now what for you,

You will be remembered as an issue to rap

He probably is very lonely

Easy to kill

Noone around

Time to show my skill

Head gone you're dead again

Out for the count

Time to continue

They be asking me "How's life doing?"

It feels like some bitch is shooting me,

He doesn't know what I went through I'm fine

I just can't deny I have trouble finding more and more rhymes for war

I keep trying and that leads to more rhyming and writing

Due to the difficulty there's only a few new raps you can have,

I hit a sudden crash but I have help

(Vixlet take it away)

(-Vixlet- Verse 3 Part 2)

My skill be higher than a smack whore in a crack drawer.

All these bars of gold got my back sore but you couldn't pack more.

Have you slapped raw with a cracked jaw, a job I don't need a Mac for.

Sneak through your back door, whack your fat whore in her cold sores, that's raw.

I'm more fire than an Aries, I'm scarier than Jason with a chainsaw ripping your face off.

You better watch out, like you're checking out the time.

I don't need to try when annihilating rhymes.

Ripped more lines than a cokehead in Columbia.

I'll run up on ya, lay a full family pic of metal into ya.

(Hook)

Yeah, I'm feeling it now

I don't know how,

Just feel like writing and rhyming

I don't really try

And I don't lie,

If I did the lyrics would hit the sky

I feel like nothing even though I know I am something just suffering

I have to get out

This hell makes me want to yell but I just hide it

This may be the best I've done,

Working and searching for rhymes to use during my prime

(-Vixlet- Verse 4)

I'm back on my shit like a fly, as I shoot off to the sky and let this world die.

More flier than a leaflet, tryna inspire the youth to stop lighting fires.

It'd take me three four decades to stop being a pyro, now check it.

If Lucifer and Earth banged, I'd be the platinum record (Uh)

Ask me to stop talking Josh, I just reply with Sodium Hydride.

All you can say is "I tried", combined with your crumb saying "I lied"

All it'd say on your tombstone is "I died", Nice ride but it's not my time.

My life is intersected with Hell, I've spoke to the devil myself.

He said that Hell is vacant but expensive, I need my soul to sell.

I told him to shag his mother, make a son and a new brother.

Before I plastered him all over the walls, I'm just tougher.

He be all over the streets like missing posters.

Then I disappeared like missing posters.

Fuck all y'all who try shutting me down, I ain't Shaun Dean.

You need to edit your style like a raw porn scene.

YoungJosh can get papercuts while wiping his fat ass.

Fuck Andrex, he's got an A4 sketchbook and no cash.

If you reading this, then I could beat you in a battle.

Oh wait I did! Twice! You're more broke than an anvil on a ping pong paddle.

Cut you from your sister's womb, spin you in a cocoon then I'm flushing the spastic.

You talk so little, you must constantly be eating a fat dick.

Get your ass kicked worse than Chris Kirkpatrick.

Before I spinkick you in the jaw and make you drop to the floor with more than a scratched lip.

Jump on the bitch like Kris Kross, no Cha Cha Slide shit.

But I cremate cunts and burn those ashes when I ra-ra-rhyme shit.

I'mma bomb first, R.I.P to the legendary Makaveli.

Gats are heavy, but I dual wield these mags and get back to spreading.

YoungJosh, you ain't Big Pun so don't try step to me.

Big Mac please, you might read my hash when you weigh but you're a shit emcee.

Drop these fuckers like shopping bags when I got through the kitchen door.

Cracked open a pack of four, cocked my .44 and went on a rampage through Arkansas.

I could drink 7 shots of whiskey, 4 shots of vodka and you'd be more pissed than me.

Now get back to writing your sad songs and fantasising over V!