King of the East Coast

bloody crowns rust in gutters, streetlights bleed confetti

If you aint spittin' razorblades, you just a fuckin' spaghetti

east coast winters freeze hope bones crack, nobody petty

step to the throne? Get skinned, hung raw thats the confetti

throne splinters under weak spines, splatter maps on the pavement

fake kings gargle bleach rhymes, choke on their own enslavement

every syllables a shiv carve "fraud" in your rib inscription

grave plots pre-sold, your careers a fuckin' premature ejaculation

bullets converse in dialects, each whisper a census count

lyrics melt faces like acid reflux on a discount

you hard? nah, bitch, you pinterest boards with gang signs

my pens a flamethrower your mixtapes just lint fries

east coast storms flood basements, drown rats in their own leakage

your bars are daycare naps, mine? morgue slab poetics

you claim grind but beg for features like a crackheads loose teeth

I ghostwrite obituaries your names in the next sheet

venom laces every vowel, spit rot through your squads facade

your chains cubic zirconia mines a dog tag robbed from God

you wavey? nah, you sinkin', submarine with screen-door armor

im the riptide that splits ships, leave captains dismembered in chargers

 

fuck a crown grab the cleaver, split the scene like a butchers block

streets cough blood clots, your whole cliques a clogged artery, watch the plot pop

yall lyrical niggas just parrot squawks, im the hawk that plucks feathers mid-flight

turn your hardest bars to nursery rhymes, leave your carcass frostbit like nikes in ice

I dont write, ignite sulfur laced in the pen stroke

burn your catalog to ash, call it kinfolk, smoke signals where your kin choke

your bitch wrote a love song 'bout my grip, now her wrist broke

im the reason morgues got ziplocs, zipper your lips or get stitched closed

cement shoes, but im walkin' on water, you floatin' face-down in a soda can coffin

grind on your bitch like molars, she coughin', call that jaw-breaker profit

yall clowns in a circus, im taxin' the tent, pop goes the budget

your spines a wet noodle, my foot in your esophagus, digest the fucking subject

your whole cliques a flop, call that group therapy

im splittin' wigs like atomics, leave your crew soupy

fuck a ceasefire, im sparkin' the block like a faulty fuse box

your hype mans a corpse why you think he ghostwrote your hot cross?

You spit? nah, you dribble soft, leakin' weak semen bars

im the butcher with cleavers for ears, dissectin' stream of consciousness

you lyrical? bitch, your pen’s a tampon, soak up the cramps

my rhymes hit like cinderblocks tossed from project ramps

you hard? bitch, your bloods diluted with kool aid and cowardice

im the east coast ebola, catch a case just by crowd-surfin'

yall niggas is appetizers, im the main course with the fork stuck in

your chains cubic zirconia my pinkys the North Star

talk slick? I'll unzip your face, wear your skin like a windbreaker

your flows a flatline, im the defibrillator, clear, bitch, wake up

you bodied a track? nah, you just licked the ashtray

im the arsonist spittin' flames, turn your legacy to ash gray

fuck your chain, I'll yank the gold out your colon

your clouts a hemorrhoid, swollen, stinkin', irrelevant

im the landfill where wack rappers get composted

your mixtapes a suicide note, post it, I'll toast it