Hol’up now
Do I have to put my pen to my notepad before I kill this verse like
its on a death row
Or should I send a letter to the Cops so they’ll understand that this
is just a demo of what’s bout to come next
My thoughts are more complex than quantum physics in the mind of an art student
Yes ma’m, I’m fluent in English but I prefer you speak money to me I
understand that shit more clearly..
I wake up everyday with my shoes on, ready for the paper chase
trailing the money to a crazy place
then these girls wanna hold my hands like we saying grace
but I push em off cos these ladies are shady
they only act friendly when they smell your money
ironically ain gat none but they still be coming to me
cos they love the way I think, talk and stlye
I made your girl cum just by walking by damn!
I’m all about the truth even when I tell a lie
I’m so right, I make y’all ask whats left
I’m deaf! honestly no Eva here
now I understand how Phyno felt when he said he feeling like the man of the year
I’m ahead of my peers, I’m ahead of myself, I’m gon’ make it off this
rap shii I swear
my thoughts are crystal clear
my vision is in 3D but y’all see in black and white like the colour of
a Zebra’s skin
I done pass y’all over like a Jewish feast but on this beat I’m gon’
feast, eat it up quick
like I’m making love ti cancer y’all know I’m fcking ill
get a grip if you hating me
I’m arrogant my skills demands it
most of you hate what you’ll never be
so I get why you hate me cos I’m better than you’ll ever be
I play with words in ways you’ve never seen
when I’m done this booth gon’ become a murder scene
my brain, pen and pad are my accomplice
I became a chief then a king now I’m a god
my brain has a never ending reservoir of words
with rhymes from my lungs I put out the sun
my toungue stays sharper than a two edged sword
and hommie ion give a fvck like I’m a Nun
if hip-hop were a brothel then I supply the whores
I don’t make the same mistakes like James Blunt
I’m hor and cold y’all call me Hades-Jack Frost
These bars are fvcking fatter than Rick-Ross
I should be the lyrical Jesus
pardon my sick thoughts
I’m fvcking this shiit up
ain gat no gloves on
my seamen are all gone
I’m bout to make the sky fall
this is what I live for
I fvck the girl you die for
get the greens you grind for
smoke the weed you rolled up
make your mom wish I were here son
arnh!
Now I’m back again
here to feed y’all with real raps again
killing this song with my pen again
blood stains all over my hands again
hey! balls out I’m bout to pee on this
pants down I just shart on this
I’m on a killing spree
hommie my thoughts flow free
the name is Hasi put the Flames on it. yes!
Call the priest in we bout to go church nigga
the beat is all dead this is the funeral
bakery flows we coming for the dough nigga
no hand of Midas what I write is gold nigga
the flows cold like the verse was written in the north pole
recognise you in the presence of the strange soul
this brother above so-so
damn MTN the air can tell that I glow/glo
I superman with the pen when I write
I dark knight this bane can’t fvcking fight
I piss out propane and spit out flames to ignite the stage and prove
I’m the best of this age
and I be getting stoned like I’m living in the cave
I’m the complete text book y’all is just a page
I’m raising up the dead see Da’grin walk out hes maufvcking grave
I’m ghost!
