I don't even know anything about rap. How can I, how can I express my disdain for the decline of rap when I don't even know how its dying?
Doomtree fuckers, Cecil Otter on the beat
We push the borders for quarters order catastrophe
Order we shot for the sons and daughter of anguished apathy
Who barely practice but smash in the back with a backbeat
Never hold back see if I could show that and the whole track is stacked against me (against me)
Exactly (reinvent that axel)
Alright got a pine for the good kids drink in the sink everything that flows now
And I'm on my toes now
Ever since this crew got a bit heated we lit that match and we burnin the fire grows now
And I think that shows how hard (We can see how hard) The hard nail we wanted just a little piece of the comet
Saw it promise born it we come it don't know to stomach the plumet
When it comes (when it comes) tell that we want it til it's done
I weave a message in the pictures that I spit I leave em etched in
They leave a mess with the pen unless they only sketch around
So sittin nervous when the rent come they sweatin fold they checkin
We sittin certain work with the hand we got we double down
That's how we live it put the chips in the futurist conviction
If you would kick it to the movement stupid you're bound to drown
I throw my hands up in the static manic to cause some friction
Who's back with a battered pallate callous cuz he cracks the sound (lifestyle here)
From the middle of the continent
Get em cus its getting what you fit in so
I get my piece plus plus a puzzle pigeon hole
I be the chisel chipping up the brittle bone
I wanna be paid M.C. Berserker Banshee Tryin to eat, just livin
Runnin' on pills and gasoline
Writing all bills in magazines
Past fassion fast passion never really did [?] that much for me
(Touched to see you came out) glad to see all friends have made out
How's my life look from where you stood simply too true to be too good
We write like nothin, ah one two my check
We rock a D I Y ethic because the rest don't have a D I at all
We take the bottles on the roof no books at all
Last to break his ankles has to get mom (go get mom)
The doom crew consumes a pattern raw like
Your crew got lost in the applause
You got that broke hypnosis focus too long on straight lines
I got this broken flows exploding my crows rock steak knives
Gone with a suitcase and get a smooth face but rough around the edges
Same song but a new blank play for the group rates and nothin slows down
My mind my mic it's like my nine to five fly by grip
To the fist fit a wrist slip misfit grind by the blindside
Plead on them wide eyes
Pick em back up with the stigmata liquid that spits from the depths of my spine's pride
Take a tax on the ticket timid tipped to the brim
See cuz the deaf don't flip brim tip to the ceiling like whoa
Like a pistol pissed in honda
Mike'll mix that fist hit harder
See the punch out take the muck out [?]
Pissed off coppers we playin robbers
Standing up and rise through the sagas had enough?
Well... Yeah... That's enough