The Comeback
• Written by ribs
Fixin on a comeup, you better get your gun up
I just keep growing, like a Super Mario one up
Run up, in cribs, and pop off my stopwatch
Set a record for how many say i am the top notch
Scotch shots and hot broads, man aint it the greatest
Put me on the spot, and man aint it degrading
You think you wanna stop me, slow me, show me
to proceed with my dope beats when I'm flowing
Oh, please, shut it like the lid of a container
I'm fresh from the brain first, that's a no brainer
Pain hurts and pay dirt is so much greater
So what, haters, you toe-stubbed fakers
I'm spittin off the top, like a wet mouthed climber
Life is feelin lost but you bet i'll find her
Maybe i can spit a verse, wicked wicked sinister
Spin it for the minister who doesn't know my inner hurt
Set it to the max height, ship's mast height
Last night i passed right into a past life
Had to fight bad guys, live through sad nights
Maybe they're the ones who didn't want me baptized
Now i've got a vengeance dependent on tension
Mention or question, i'm lookin for a weapon
Bustin open shots like a Michael Jordan three point
These joints are about to get me destroyed
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About the Artist
ribs
Member since February 26 2015