[Intro]
[?]
[Verse 1]
Bustin', the twenty-thirteen Illmatic
The thirty-plus T is spazzin'. Ay yo I heard 'em say
"He's a has-been," the chirping turns quick to tragic
When the turtle out-thinks the rabbit
Prefer to write deep and passion, fertile like seeds turn the tide
So you identify or certify classic
Murder by accident, I was just practicing wording my raps
In vernacular, there was rhymin'- beware of the shrapnel
This here is an animal riven its mandible
Certain its venomous, well at least compared to a labrador
This here's honor roll, the legend has gotta go
I nursing rap with a verse shit you swear it's like lavender oil
Back on my art of war oratory
I'm known for bringing a business like a bungalow corner store
Cut your losses and bungee cord back to your mommy's scrotum
I ignite 'em and burn anyone gas bomb audience
Fuck the chorus, I'm just going Instro punching record
While the lawyer's huntin' for my missin' publishing forms
Missus droppin' the daughter mission get nappies for her
How my vision went from nappy nigga to napkin with a fork
I'm munchin' like a screengrab
Fuckin' on beanbags, Ratches still calling me back for a rematch
'Cause I put the pipe down like rehab
Tea-baggin' the hunnies in your video-scene, ha!
Meanwhile we back at Motif labs
Putting bars on C-Max killing posse tracks
'Cause back when you were dancin' to "Lean Back"
I had you top five yellow like the Chinese flag
Fuck all these radio weak tracks
Get Radio Raheem trying to radio evac'
Tease back to fuck up your summer, the game needs that
An' that E-class memory seat-back
Went from Kaffir to rich black, call that decaf
And still hot even with the AC max
Big fat motherfucker, no six-pack
Leave tracks in your head that won't let you relax
(Goddamn)
[Interlude]
You'd be number one
[?]
[Verse 2]
Ungh, it's twenty-fourteen but really
It's the minute after I take off, beam
And leave a ladder
It will matter to way
More people livin' when the killing starts
Adolf Hitler kind of fashion
Huge swastika, my swass stick a the gas
Rippin' an ass of your top-notch, whether he's real or not
Jew get a ticket to watch them pissing their pants
Witness a massacre, bam bam, with a sickle and hammer
I'm Joseph Stalin on 'em, don't gotta want 'em, they know
I'm performin', name on the jumbo-tron as a forerunner
The audience want an encore, they calling out
For all of them no response, call the coroner
Heard no feedback at back to the city
Go there, ski-mask robbin' the children, not rappin', I'm killin'
Word on the streets, now we soft at Motif
An' I can sing if Rihanna believe it, how's that for a Reason?
Zaki my children Perf', my Kid X
The real deal Keirnan my Youngsta, Zubz the master
Know some others that are too Pro, hands up
I Khuli answer if you question our standards
Yeah, this enigmatic with a little added thing about it
Your rappin' dignitary wishin' he had it
Anybody nappin', sleepin', get the pink blankets
Silly Rabbit, don't think of battlin', I'm really a rabid
Sickly dog, spittin' raw like the symptoms are showing
Ticking bomb, kill an army without liftin' an arm
T is God, I'm mean rappin' nigga, not really God
Shit we on, it's like infinity and beyond
Come see the boss if your Buzz like my [?] and lawn
Full on for a budget for a couple of songs
Fuckin' award like Waddy from Die Antwoord
Pump shots, top of the ball, no guns just metaphors
Don't touch, or get knuckled up, bunched at the door
Flow enough, fix yo' babalas with spy kos
Sober up and discuss facts like once more
Who hold the crown? The artist formerly Fatbuoy
[Outro]
I said that you would be number one
[?]
