Permanent Ink (Beat By Vintage) [feat. Braille & Sivion]

I speak facts to the speaker's collapse Release wax to prove that true MCing is back The fans are sick of y'all, I'm the reason you're wack I got this all under control, you just need to relax Ride the rhythm with precision, style and grace And keep it funky, man, like finesse digging in the crates Write miles when I'm asleep, catch wreck when I'm awake And if you get it twisted, then I'll set the record straight Don't underestimate, when the kid communicate To front out my style now would be a huge mistake When you get caught slippin', I'm the slap in the face To remind you of the way it was back in the day This is the instant vintage, style that they missing Surreal got it locked like some inmates in prison So if you want to be down with the original sound You gotta shut your mouth and listen No question, no doubt I can turn the party out Control the crowd with the verbs and nouns Like "Yes, yes, y'all" it just don't stop I spit box words to leave the herbs lip-locked Write fresh rhymes like I kept them in a Ziploc Put your gun down, I verbally lick shots And formulate lines over beats' design To make your head nod, and your soul keep time So in each rhyme, I increase and climb Plant seeds to fertilize and free your mind Have a seat, recline, relax, and listen I translate greatness over dope transmissions Got young ambition, but old man wisdom Don't get it twisted, this is grown man business So, bear witness to the rhyme fitness I spit with divine physics because I'm gifted, son None but the sun, uplifted I'm blessed, and you hear it in my breath when I kick it Pen stroke, more precise than most Although I would rather uplift the gift than boast If I have to, I'll leave you still as a statue In awe of the God-given skill, so perhaps you Should rethink, remap them weak raps I'm not trying to diss, but I've gotta speak facts