Apocalypse Freestyle

*Clears throat*

Yo, mic check, one two one two

*Clears throat again*

Yeah, uh-huh

Green Lantern

The Invasion Part Three Armageddon Freestyle Remix

Also a freestyle, it's the Apocalypse

 

I got a riddle, what's white and acts black

And is on the verge of gettin' fuckin' smacked

That'll do whatever to get attention

Even if it means givin' the site tension

Is it Paranoid, Sasuke, Kalligraphy or Slime?

Maybe it's Bronson, or that little prick Clive?

Is it Mason Campbell? If you guessed that dyke

You're right, he's the one who initially decided

To ignite this flame against Gen, me, and IGNIS

Tried to say that our skill is fictitious

He's part of a sickness that deserves no forgiveness

Bear witness to this vicious dishin'

Of justice, and I ain't talkin' 'bout the proctor

When I say hip-hop's lost it's honor

As the game gets bigger and hotter

It's at the same time darker, colder, ruinin' the culture

 

Hang on, yo, I gotta take a little break

C'mon, I gotta think of more lines, you think this shit comes easy?

'Cause it does, this is all off the top of the head

Fuck you idiots

Haha! Apocalypse

Now, where was I?

 

At the center of it all is AI

I can't believe this shit is becoming this way, I

Remember when GPT was just about yay high

It and Ja Rule's midget ass were about the same size

But now it's elevated to crazy places

Escalated like automated staircases

It's got a bad case of blatant fakers

Who put no meaning behind these phrases

They get famous, perform in front of millions

Soon enough, their revenue's in the billions

Now their record sales are in the trillions

While real lyricists spit shit at pavillions

Really it's fucked up what they've done to us

Call it monarch anal, we've been royally fucked

Up the butt like homoerotic smut

Watchin' fakers get by, it's like we're bein' cucked

Like chance crapped us out, we're shit outta luck

This shit sucks, it really feels like we're stuck

In one place, tryna make it in this day and age

To the stage is insane, in vain, we're in a cage

Tryin' to escape but we can't make our way

Away, it's kinda like we're childhood runaways

No matter what you say, you're right back at the start the next day

No way anybody's gettin' any fame in any way

I'm amazed at the current state of the game

No longer just about havin' somethin' to say

And sayin' it so people know your name

And what you've been through, now it's just monetary gain

The champagne stains on your shirt that cost eight

Zeros worth of cash just for some plain

Basic design with a word across the chest

Whatever happened to the bulletproof vests

You'd need to walk around in or else like 50

You'd get shot right up, a bullet in your kidney

And your left knee, or I get shot and left in

The streets, bleedin' out for sayin' shit on the beat

Carryin' heat everywhere you go

Before all that shit was just for show

Before these fuckers lied about hoods and ghettos

And actually had struggles before the stilettos

Before Armageddon was right around the corner

Back when weapons weren't used for school slaughters

The world's an apocalypse, ain't no benefits

For doin' shit, man, ain't fuckin' nothin' worth it

We're desperate for something to change

But we can't be estranged from the rap game

But it won't, it's all gonna stay the same

Until we eliminate the fuckin' fakes who are to blame

 

That's all I got

Hehe, the Apocalypse is upon us

The rap game is kinda fucked, innit

Oh well, later