Untitled Song

 

Please believe these flows teach egos

To freeze and then recede, I'm C4

Beneath your Jeep, the second you turn that keyhole

Then heat blows your weak flows right out the water

The father, boy, I work smarter and harder

My style got a restraining order, don't bothеr

I charter unseen territories in ordеr

To push it farther than you niggas had ever thought of

I caught a lotta murder charges, turned artists

To martyrs, when I rock, thot turns to goddess

Fiends turn to kings, dreams turn to things tangible

My hands are full with grands I pulled

From stanzas, no, I can't go slow

I'm Sandra Bull, either proceed with speed or don't breathe

There's no creed or color that won't heed

To the warning, the planet'll shake when I'm performing

Tectonic plates from a place where Tecs on their waist

So stay safe, or get left with chest on your face

As death waits for your last of breath

I'ma pass the test, yes, I'm a master chef

Want a taste, then pay for it

They claim they're real, but they're seldom straightforward

The pain I feel on my frame gets transmuted to a dangerous flame

I spit fire at the devil while the angels sang

The flow changed, but Jermaine's the same, I'm Plain Jane

Not a chain on my neck, but shine like baguettes

A shame, not a flex, to rhyme like the rest

My mind's quite depressed if I don't write these

I'm Spike Lee of the audio, back in my barrio

Parties got shot up, so I built up all my cardio

Dodge shells, collect coins like I'm Mario

But this is not a gaming experience, I'm serious, nigga