[Verse]
I be like
Hi, I'm Twist, guys
Ready to kill the instrumental
I'll beat him to death.. while I make some sweet bars, like kit-kat, and burn off the calories by making a big fire
As you listen to it
I'm ready to go retarded on this beat, gimme a fidget, stupid
Follow me now and see what this about
While I make normal people think they're in the clouds
In other words I'll make sheep fly
Everybody tells me that I reflect the light, so when I look in the mirror I see shine
But the mirror is reversed whenever I say these rhymes
Turn dark like bitches at thirteen trinna give head, but their teeth bites
They can say I'm just one of those freak whites that think they can spit lines
But what they don't know is how many years I've been writing, since I was fourteen I took it serious, like a two week's time
Since then I've been doing nothing in my free time but spit freestyles
Yeah to be big I gotta walk over three miles
Like into the Spiderverse
See his dad's police records and scratch them
Take a pic, then put it on a moldure with the caption "I had to put an X on these Files"
I got a big mind, cuz inside I got insight, but I also got three fights
Should I take a deep dive and achieve my dreams I...
Or dream of it and wake up to smell the scent of what I left behind
So I gotta remind myself of when I wanted to do nothing but be on socials and sleep time
Well what did me find? Nothing
But I did reek cries
So I gotta go reach high, right in the nick time
Do it for myself and my queen like a bee hive
Get comfortable but don't step ahead the line, like a Subway
In God I won't give no fucks way until I get revived or meet Christ
I bet that he lies
As you could see by now, I'm not one of those that relies on faith
But I got faith in diss lines, so if you wanna go into the ring I'll leave our beef fried, while I give you a sleek smile
Just the other day I was thinking of a neat crime
I need bicycle, but I don't know if I should lease, buy, so I go to Levi's, and then to Range Rover, the gipe guy tells me some free advice
You're either a vintage man or prefer the E-Bikes
I think twice, then turn and stab his green eyes, now he blind, then I steal my brand new car
They tell me it's homicide, I tell 'em it's mass murder, cuz he's a pussy, so when they tell me I killed one guy I say that I see nine lifes taken by my swiss knife
Weather it's right or wrong, I don't care what goes on in your weak minds
It's a matter of perspective, but you need glasses, while I see fine
And can get your ass kicked
You should revise your actions
You pussy, like a feline, with no rationality
Imma racion galaxies
And turn them into my design
Watch them create peace, then when they die it I sneak by to resign
They weep, cry, so I flood what I helped create
And send them to heaven's gates, after I recked their fates, get 'em scared to date, and they think it was a cheap sign but I just don't read bylines
So I keep ridding, into the sunset, while I praise "East Side!"
Oh shit!
Writing this shit with mental ferocious, so that as I speak I own ears
You're so fearce, until I speak of something from my soul here, and you don't agree
Bohoo you fucking ho bitch
Too bad I can't grow tears, I'd as soon start to grow beard
Or turn into a drunk stepfather who does nothing but hold beers
So stay with me as I go to speak of my necklace and bracelets and socks and all of my gold shit, sike
I stay breasy, take wind off my checklist, damn face it I probably gon' sock all that bullshit away
I'll slice off your bones and make your throat slit and play
Then gloat it
And ignore what you say about me and what I hold dear, it's noted, you're ghosted, bitch, go sit
And make a mess of your sitting face
Yall just sitting ducks
I'm standing stiff, y'all consume shit while you sit at lunch
That's disgusting
Like hearing your hits cuz it's foul
We breaking more records than Eminem, throwing your shit to the ground, you leave to Mexico City, we'll be waiting to put your deslexic face pretty after making you seem like a bitch in your house
Ho get off, you need me
Foot stuck on the pedal so that I'll drive myself 'til I'm dead on the wheel, you feel me?
Y'all getting paid for spitting, turning the alphabet into numbers
So my answer is three and twenty-five
Cuz I see see why
Lit nites like a kingdom, or cocaine lines, neither
So I'll leave ya
Before shit hits the fan, like Bieber
Oh shit! (Bitch)
You know that I'm all bout my business, but I don't waste racks for nuisance, I'm economic like cheap flights
On the fine, days that I flew in
To stay at the US, in the east side
But my brain at the music
Distractions, I leave right off of those, to settle my goal
While I praise Massachusetts
