Lyrics
The rhyme is so raw, most these rappers need a seminar
You copy the same schematics, you making the same songs
You thought that you were the only, but understand it's the physical
Artistry manifest, but no ideas original
Our sickest creation, no need for further analysis
Plus the beats bang prestige giving me calluses
Even if it's assumed, proving it all again
Selling out all the shows never selling out who I am
Mild temper venter, chronic keep me casual
Formally introduced to a journey into the natural
The three, two zeros then proceeded by one
Laced like your woven tennis shoes before you go run
Danger danger, Will Robinson
There's a crisis here, nappy ain't dirty
Racist man, it's just a type of hair
Nightmares have just begun, there's no enticing him
Limbs relaxed, but your music pop like a Vicodin
R.I.P. to the CD, can't even play my hits
'Cause new computers ship without the means to play the shit
We love the boosted speed
We love the memory
It got me feeling like we're nothing like we used to be
R.I.P. to the CD, can't even play my hits
'Cause new computers ship without the means to play the shit
We love the boosted speed
We love the memory
It got me feeling like we're nothing like we used to be (buh-buh-buh, buh-buh-buh)
Smoke smoke drip, sip-sip-sip
Eyes closed like I missed this
No forgiveness, just a sick bitch
'Cause I'm under destruction what is this?
Just a young nigga ready to get this
If I fall on my face, you're my witness
Feast on my blood when I leave this
Dimension I'm starting to think that
This world is lost like a sea ship
Walking to hell with the demons
How can the heavens defeat them?
Sometimes I just wanna, leave 'em
This feeling is something, I can't run
I just wanna be where I came from
I'm never gon' see where I came from
Rest in peace to the game son