Just Rap


So basically I’m blazing beats contagiously
Creating each verse with a never ending thirst that is sane to me
I must burst past the cast of stereotypes
Plus words stack in packs to bury the mic
I have a day job that provides my daily given
So I sit back on my chair and devise alien rhythm
I don’t need to make it in rap, I make rap
Not much of a sweet tooth, someone else can make the cake stack
Ain’t that something you can paint crap gold
And people will buy it because the virus is sold
Another auction veers close, lost and smeared hosts
Plot severe flows, who’s got the weirdos?
That’d be me, myself, and I
Cutting edge like Elliot held the knife
A last name Smith but far from a drone
I met a beautiful woman and then we started a home
The art of the phone, it’s mixed up with the micro
I’m not the main event, man…more of a side show
Might go deeper and faster, keeping a rapper broken
Traded their soul for a pack of tokens, smacking noggins
Black toboggans in the back of Dodges, act obnoxious
Apt to cop it, firing half an office affidavit laughing novice
Map enabled, master blade the rapper, fatal…hey
The hell am I rapping about? Whatever I want
STOMP
Competition
Gone and missing
On and on anonymous
I’m on a mission, ponder it
The blonde piranha sauna hiss
No salon admonishments
I’m far from pretty finding nutrients
Leave you reeling, feeling woozines, so who’d he diss again?
So wicked with a pen that vain’s inflicted in a sense
Finna drench eardrums, hear comes the spear gun
Fort Wayne, Indiana it’s where we’re from
Finna drench eardrums, hear comes the spear gun
Elevate with a set of soluble syllables
Good God he’s unkillable build you a volatile village full
Of cats that rap and stack chips on shoulder blades
Chopped down, got it locked now, control the breaks
And hold the weight, fold your traits as I wander though here
Breaking spines my resolution, check the new year
Visual individual vandal strike candlelight vigil crude
Other cats are thin and minimal, on the interval I’m destined to rip it
Fresh with an image that doesn’t apply, get your hands up in the sky
It’s the thin man stuck in Obese American dioramas
Tie your hands up, fly miranda, plan a
Way around the major clowns, phrases made you frown
Day to day it’s quite sick with another mic check
I get better when the beat drops, leaving an impression
Deeper sentiments I’m just teaching them a lesson
Destined to do this for years and the fire’s rekindled
Hip hop is heart and rapping without it is sinful
Cats claim rides but are found hopping out of Pintos
Loud as a bimbo, dopest track on their album the into
Getting screwed without someone making their wax spin slow
Breakers attack with limbs akimbo, binge with grim flows
And a couple observations, view from a cynic
Pharmaceuticals, nudists, root of the newest knitted gimmick
Is it fitted or throwback, chromed out with the slurred speech patterns
Or is it dope, wait-that doesn’t matter
Make it sell fake, hell as long as the kids love it
But they don’t know any better , veteran of nudges
Enough is enough, too much I can’t take it
Channels cleared, 4 songs on the play list
any airplay getting artist is foul
C-walking kindergarteners got me harboring doubt
Loud with nothing to say but a catchphrase
Some wonder why the little kids act that way
Just a pawn in the rat race, here buy the CD
stickers, pose, album, clothes and shows
No need to show and prove, just fork over the cash kid
steal it from your parent’s wallets just like that last did
Hell, they’re never around, I’ve got to maintain an image
Keep the dame tight, busting up a play a minute