R.I.P.C.D.

The rhyme is so raw, most these rappers need a seminar

You copy the same schematics, you making the same songs

You thought that you were the only, but understand it's the physical

Artistry manifest, but no ideas original

Aw, sick as creation, no need for further analysis

Plus the beats bang prestige, giving me calluses

Ever if it's assumed, proving it all again

Selling out all the souls, never selling out who I am

Mind temper venter, chronic keep me casual

Formally introduced to a journey into the natural

The three, two zeros, then proceeded by one

Laced like your woven tennis shoes, before you go run

Danger, danger, Will Robinson

There's a crisis here, nappy ain't dirty

Raised this man, it's just a type of hair

Nightmares have just begun, there's no enticing huh

Limbs relaxed, but your music pop like a Vicodin

RIP to the CD, can't even play my hits

'Cause new computer shit without the means to play the shit

We love the boost of speed, we love the memory

It got me feeling light with nothing like we used to be

RIP to the CD, can't even play my hits

'Cause new computer shit without the means to play the shit

We love the boost of speed, we love the memory

It got me feeling light with nothing like we used to be

Smoke, smoke drip sip, sip, sip, eyes closed like I missed this

No forgiveness, just a sick bitch

'Cause I'm under construction, what is this?

Just a young ****, ready to get this

If I fall on my face, you're my witness

Feast on my blood when I leave this

Don't mention I'm certain to think that

This world is lost like a sea ship

Walking in hell with the demons

How can the heavens defeat them

Sometimes I just wanna leave them

This feeling is something I can't run

I just wanna be where I came from

I'm never gon' see where I came from

Rest in peace to the queen son

Brooklyn, baby, reborn

Trippin' up, you lukewarm

This is like a warning, Flatbush swarming, Nike shoes on

Proving them critics wrong, gettin' cream, bitch I love it

And the fans hold us down, put nothing above it

RIP to the CD, can't even play my hits

'Cause new computer shit without the means to play the shit

We love the boost of speed, we love the memory

It got me feeling light with nothing like we used to be

Used to be

The wickedest, man on fire, the new Richard Pryor

The wicked lit, rubber on my dick

'Cause I don't want that Charlie Sheen shit

Please don't say you're the highest, until you met your highness

I just, want the head like Isis

Fuck her so precise, her pussy gushing like a geyser

I'm Michael Myers with these grip pliers

Took off your eyelids

I sit in silence, speakin' tongues and burnt Bibles

So open letter to all of my rivals, you will not vanquish my titles

My semi-automatic will splatter a **** like Jackson Pollack

Deranged since birth, I was conceived in an insane asylum

I solemnly swear this evening to refrain from the violence

Young and wildin', psilocybin still my style is

LSD drops in my iris, tire mark, police sirens

No guidance, the belly of the beast is where I reside in

Grimy and vibrant like Busta Rhymes in the early 90's

Click boom, your head blew like you play for the Giants

Lyrical tyrant, the way I be rhyming

I deserve all of the Pulitzer prizes

My pistol be hiding, I pull it surprise 'em

My voice can be hypnotizing

Every verse I deliver be vivid and visually striking

Been the highest since I arrived, and the climate is rising

It's 'bout to get violent, cover your eyes and

Take this lyrical dose at the Dr. Meechy Dark prescribed ya

I slide inside her, I love her tight vagina no E-Z Wider

Back to this cypher, I got chronic to light up, pass me the lighter

RIP to the CD, can't even play my hits

'Cause new computer shit without the means to play the shit

We love the boost of speed, we love the memory

It got me feeling light with nothing like we used to be

Used to be, used to be, used to be