I’m beginning to feel like a rap god.
No, fuck that, I’m beginning to feel like everybody rapping is a whack, dawg.
Sound like they smoke too much crack and pot and I’m a crack pot on bath salts.
If you wanna face off, I’ll eat your fucking face off, face it your soft
And I’m hard as metal.
Watch artists tremble.
I’m sharp as the sharpest sharpened pencil.
Raise the bar to stars and mars and vessels.
You’re starting to bark, your bite hardly settled.
Tryna tell everybody you are the devil?
You’re dark as yellow, you’re hard as jello.
You’re smart as a mental retard in a special
kindergarten class who keeps barking “Hello! How are you?!”
Sit the fuck down and listen the fuck up, as a push hard on the pedal.
I’m respecting every legend but I’m tryna be better than everyone,
wrecking Eminem on his own track.
Severing the heads of everybody who’s stepping
bet I be getting a pen and pin ’em down when I get a note pad.
And I am not saying that I’m rapping better because I flow fast.
I’m saying that I’m rapping better ’cause I’m rapping better and you should know that.
Who told your old ass to tell your whole pack that they’re spitting this shit raw?
Mother fucker I will have you cleaning shit out of your draws while you’re picking up your jaw.
I’m jaw dropping. Like hot pockets, I stick you in a box
called coffins when my songs dropping
like what menopause causing, I’m mood swinging on you all.
Speaking of menopause, you never will be fit to reproduce this.
So I’m telling you men-to-pause, or death is your peace like Grim Reeper’s-deuces.
“Jeez Louise yo who’s this?
He’s fifteen a freaking student?
He don’t even need improvement.”
Team’s the Lethal People movement,
killing with the words.
Fuck everybody else, like I popular drug dealer I’m flipping every bird.
If Em’s the rap god I’m the minister.
When I do it, bet I too am representing everything he’s doing.
You’re developing a deficit you definitely never get the penmanship element present in my music.
I ain’t a human, I’m a mutant, from the moon this, means I’m never down to earth.
So I can’t sound out a verse, without me first, bragging ’bout all my work.
Man, I sound like a jerk.
You don’t wanna hear me bragging ’bout talent you wanna hear me bragging ’bout money like everyone now does, word?
How bout first, I talk about the cars, narcotics, and guns?
Then talk about how struggling a town is in the next line and still give ’em a dollar for funds?
But I’ma’ drop so hot you thought it was pot out the oven and you’ve forgotten your gloves.
Fuck the industry, initially I gotta make a song to a relevant beat just to see you listen to me.
I’m physically turning into beast, but ain’t no beauty in it.
I got acne and some fat cheeks but truth or fiction?
I’m the young rap god, and if so peep the new religion.
Praying to Pac and then I study Eminem
and story telling from Nas and growing the flow of Rakim.
Giving me ridiculous ability of spitting and delivery
so nobody can do it symmetry.
I don’t see any mini-me’s
but it’s not because they don’t wanna copy because they don’t have the ability to spit like me.
You are literally never getting me.
You’re getting close to me, you’re getting closer to a cemetery.
If your aim is bumping into me your brain must struggle mentally.
When I say I don’t “like” you that ain’t a fucking simile.
It’s Token, and you ain’t gon’ see an equal who gon kille this beat.