Southpaw

0:22

Fuck space, I press until the ceiling learns finesse

Every nigga accounted for nothing left in duress

Ill bury them four bars deep and let the setup take the redress

Grading on a curve while im already past recess

Wont confess how the metaphor works till you clock the right address

Still, everything I write finds its way home, never loses the egress

Pivot to a sharper pocket, every sentence got a hilt

I don't write from guilt, I write like the whole things prebuilt

Tilt your head if the wordplays too symmetrical to design the tilt

Stitched the scheme so tight youd think the bars were quilt

Run it back, still cant find where the seam spilt

Let the ego wilt in public, watch the pen stay draped in gilt

Now watch the tempo pick up speed, everything I touch gets a whisk

No safety net under this shit, build the whole thing on risk

Spin the same four bars twice, youll catch a second meaning on the disc

Walking a foreign meter like its second nature, pace stays brisk

Eulogy mass the whole thing later, my confidence needs its own asterisk

The structure holds a stare so cold, might as well call it a basilisk

 

Other niggas sketchin', I etch it, no rough draft to catch

Every time I gotta clear a bar so high it needs a latch

Throw the whole thing in the fire, watch the ash refuse to match

You can copy the format, still come back with a mismatch

I load the metaphor early, let the context handle the dispatch

Somewhere in bar three a words doing double time, go on, rewatch

I go quiet like a monk

Come back writing like my styles got roots deeper than the trunk

Hand you the whole argument in one chunk

So tight theres no seam left for a critic to flunk

Nothing ordinary, everything I touch just picks up spunk

Meanwhile these other niggas sample size already shrunk

Gotta earn yall place, nothing extra, all sense

Pocket gets tight, just tighten the sentence

Pack four meanings where a lazier pen needs a whole fence

You can feel the tension building, airin' out, in suspense

Most 'these niggas pad the count, Id rather cut it down and condense

Take a whole chapters worth of thought, hand it back immense

In what its saying, small in what it wastes, no pretense

Thats the difference between a flex and a defense

Confidence forged, not given thats the difference, thats the steel

Prisms hiding under what they reveal

Chokin' on royalty just to watch it kneel

Fuck filin' a complaint, good luck finding the appeal

This is a close to finished as ambition ever gets to ideal