Lyrics
Twenty four bars, one rhyme scheme
Listen
So sick that I think I could acquire a fever
Nobody can test when I am live on the feature
Rappers need to stop because their style is weaker
I'm surrounded by pricks like a flight to Ibiza
None of them inspire me or frighten me either
Bluntly, I could smoke 'em like I'm lighting a reefer
I am loaded with cash, they're declining your VISA
I am rolling in dough like I'm slicing a pizza
Clever when I rhyme and plug the mic in the speaker
I could write a rap philosophising with Nietzsche
Got your lady bragging at the size of my wiener
Like "Jesus, it was this big": Christ the Redeemer
Punch you in the head because your rhyming is meagre
I'll be swinging both fists because my fighting is meaner
You will get a bruised throat from my violent procedure
Then a sorer face like I'm a believer
Tasteless on the mic you're an unlikeable creature
You've got no class like a retiring teacher
I'm the sky and the aether the fire hydrogen breather
I keep it colder than a fucking liquid nitrogen freezer
Uh, keep an eye on the heater you know the iron is eager
At killing rappers I'm the highest achiever
Because to outline all the bodies from my nine millimetre
You will require more chalk than a climbing arena