I don' talk about it really, but I'm still the illest

Still the baddest

Bless the apparatus I got silverback gorilla status

I pull the one red string that runs through your mattress

And make your bed springs sing a song of sadness

Sad sack of shit, pack your things and go

I'm hopping freight trains with nothing but a bindle (no hobo)

Little homie said "YOLO" — no props

I photobomb your photo ops busting out the robocop

Teach me how to dougie, kid, I'd rather do the knowledge

Now go home and get your shine box, you got a couple shoes to polish

Undergrad, this ain't no humblebrag

I've sung one too many Johnny come latelies, now baby come to dad

Cause he don't need no cheat code to go beast mode

All he really needs is a M-I-C to freak flow

(I talk a lot of shit, but I can back it all the fuck up)

I'm a runner up, if I'm not top billing, I'm show stealing

Sistine chapel vandal type, tag the whole ceiling

Sick of hearing rap with no feeling

Sick of trauma porn addicts thinking they're poets, that's not soul bearing

Break yourself, fix your face

My heartbeat breaks the 808's, now update your database

So many rock random tapes, but not enough functional dual cassette decks

Who will you sweat next?

Stupid, I maneuver through a school full of rednecks

Some people I was cool with despite a few death threats

Sacrificed a social life, food and some rent checks

So I can grab a mic where the hell ever I like, and catch wreck

Yeah, I've got swung on from time to time

Been cornered in some clubs just for speaking my mind

Mental midgets couldn't come up with the lyrics and rhymes

Now I'm back popping more shit than ever and I'm fine

Find me if you need me, son, I'm easy to locate

You finally gon' feed me then I'm eating that whole cake

Got license in movies and TV, that's so great

Don't break your coatnail trying to throw weight, okay

Curb stomp your enthusiasm

Don't expect resolutions just cause every movie has 'em

Don't expect revolution from the music

That is solely created for the sake of booty clapping

Fool, keep rapping

Release the kraken, beat back the back beat

Planning instrumentals, running my mouth at the track meet

My victory lap shows no mercy in this dojo

Spinning back, kick the Willie Bobo

Sweep the head, breaking bread with the best of 'em

Crumbs are left under the table for the rest of 'em

I don't speak in metaphysics cause I'm not a metaphysicist

I'll diss the living shit out of these so called lyricists

Fuck y'all

Y'll don't like it, kiss my ass you don't like it, this my house

'Cause we don't need no cheat codes to go beast mode

All he really needs is a M-I-C to freak flow

Excuse me for having ethics, I don't eff with little toys

I learned to scratch on phonographs

A killjoy, crying over spilled soy milk

I destroy the shit brick house that you droids built

You walk tall 'til I kick out your stilts

Buff 'til I call your bluff and pull up your kilt

You've been padding your resume

While I've been rhyming about life like I'm rapping my death away

Stay well composed, figuratively, literally

They prefer a hashtag to metaphor, simile

Brag-rap to poetry, backtrack to symphony

Sweet talk the sour puss press and push bitterly

The kids are getting degraded, they ain't diminish me

Oh uh, but they prefer the skinny me

I'm an emotional leader of the emcees who sit in salt

Fuck being complicated, Uncle Sage is difficult

It's a cult of personality stuck in a false reality

It's all a bunch of mall punk and dance club rap to me

Swagger jacking, black cracker, battle rap is gone minstrel

Born on third base acting like they hit a triple

With a wiffleball bat walking pretty, talking pretty

With no act, in fact, it's all theory

I promised you death threats, don't actually kill me

But bite my dog, I'mma scratch your kitty

It's like that, y'all, it's like that, y'all

It's like that-that-that, it's like that, y'all

It's like that, y'all, it's like that, y'all

It's like that-that-that, it's like that, y'all

Talk shit