Untitled Song

The first person stepping in bursts curse,

Words perfect, etched into worse verses,

Each third word flipping with curved purpose,

Observe serpents slither in blurred circuits

slicing through motherfucking blurred sermons,

heard warning, fled when the herd worsened,

I’m supposed to shine, like a golden shrine,

With a loaded mind, I decode the signs,

I'm composed to grind, When I boast it prime

I’m out for presidents to represent me,

Bentleys parked where the trenches sent me,

I’m back slapping rappers like it’s bad practice,

Sharper than a blade when the math clashes,

Jesus Christ, thugs in ditches, mass ashes

playing hands with stacked chances,

They talking tough, but it just chump change,

never come strange, in a rough range,

watch em dip when I bust flames,

watch me dip, switch the cut lane.

I’m quick to dismiss you, don’t make me play,

My aim steady like an AK, let it spray,

I’m ripping this shit, every bar got a grip to stay,

Clip in and spit, they don't want me to display,

I'm flipping the script, yeah, I'm ripping this shit,

Every line I spit, got 'em tripping, they quit,

I’m hitting the mix, so precise when I hit,

You’re missing the tricks, while I’m lifting this fit, I'm built for the blitz, I’m persistent with wit,

You slipping, I’m slick, never slipping a bit,

I’m gripping the grip bitch suck a dick

and fuck a bitch, like a fist full of bricks,

While you sit in the mist, killing this shit.

Optimistic and tragic, opposition outrages,

Twist the blade like orchestration,

sharp notes on the strings I’m lacing

Split the bass with force and patience,

scorch the page with wars I’m facing

Grip the reins, abort complacence,

torch the stage, I’m more than greatness.

Fold the code, I’m known to render flows that leave ‘em blown and splintered

Scope the lens, I’m focused inward,

wrote the ends, they spoke in whispers

Hold the pen, unload the trigger,

motion sick, I’m oceans thicker

I know it's cold, though,

I hold flows that go slow,

Told ‘em I glow bold, fold

foes like a gold road show.

Solo, I roll low, my dough grows

in the dojo, The flow so froze,

no joke, no mo watch it grow.

Glows from the gold coat,

I stroll slow, then I blow smoke,

In the cold, I provoke, so

don’t fold under the no-go.

The tone’s so cold, got em

hooked like a dope show,

I’m the pro, you’ll know

when the whole globe knows.

The O’s I throw, they go on the low,

it’s a road show, No pose,

I’m a ghost with a glow, it’s a flow grow.

I’m bold, so I show, got ‘em sold

on the slow flow, Control the zone,

roll bold with the dough, it’s a snow blow.