Feb 6, 2015Would love to know peoples thoughts on a track I just made. Just been messing with flow a lot and made this track for fun.
@Kevin @Jet @Tommy Zing
I tend to over stack the deck with wild cards
The file on him probably says profesh with dialogue
Plenty bars like a prison cell
Papa said to give em h---, so I give em h---
I’m Simply swell I’m living well, cooking fried chicken
Fine spitting, I’d give him a prize, winning
Charlie Sheening ‘em believe in him
TH gasolining all your speakers and he’s premium
I’m after paper quick to fry em like the chair homie
Gladiator sick the lions and the bears on me
Through and through, I’ve been slaughtering the craft ain’t
Most rappers Worth a boo like when roger’s on the draft stage
These petty players joke without a punch line
My resume is longer than the brunch line
What’s my name? say it I’m a beast
Touch mine, I’ll filet em on a beat
There ain’t no use in this, I aim at you witness
The first degree of murder of drums
And just say you threw fits when you claim you heard victims
Scream when I threw it in the trunk
I’m Picasso; it takes time
I’m colossal with 8 lives
Pick up the hi-hat, say I’m wack’s like saying that Biggie ain’t died yet
Despicable here come some words
I’m typically setting the curve
I’m syphilis into kick when I’m spitting this picture me making a hit getting rich and then
Backing out, cuz rappers now are trash some how
I tend to think the money does it
Cuz the best MCs are the ones who hungry for it
Don't stop I can feel the rhythm
Call me Doc prescribing knowledge they say gosh he pop off problems
Feeling Godly every time the lightening hit em
Call me Brock I’m into Onyx, back when Pac was making Paclypse
I was in my momma’s stomach writing rhythms
I’m a prophet like Mohamed, day I stop’s the day a comet
Sets the world ablaze for days despite religion
Call me Brock I’m into Onyx, back when Pac was making Paclypse
I was in my momma’s stomach writing rhythms
Caught up in it since my mother’s womb
I saw a vision causing utter doom
One day I would prove to be a problem
Rule over the goons what’s a goon to a goblin
My flip of the tongue’s like gripping a gun….I’m itching for funds
Get hit with a pun, ain’t simple as some I’m physically ripping your gums
Outta your mouth if you rap, thousands of hours of practice
That’s it, that’s what makes a master fantastic
Yeah, that’s it, I got lyrics plastered
All over my walls like a murderer sick with madness
And if anyone betrays me, I’ll react to it like Baby
Kidnap him, make him rap til his casket just to laugh at him
There ain’t no use steppin to me, got it?
My flame’s a few extra degrees hotter
This game’s where I’m resting me feet, not a-
Cllaimed but I’m destined to be, lotta
Haters round my neck, don’t phase me
Paper bound til death, so pay me
Most Claim it’s bout respect, go crazy
But when it Came down to a check, most changing
I’m playing Texas Hold Em with a royal flush
Refrain neglecting flowing when you toy with us
I’m aiming head to toe explode a boy to dust
It was must. If he can rhyme then I’m employed to crush him
Kick the door in spitting gorgeous it’s the foreman quick to scorch em
Think he’s foreign, listen for him, he could probably rip The Gorge,
In Quincy, George Washington the state that Marshawn Lynch has scored
54 or more, f--- it, toss it, let em pick the score
Masterminded, that’s what I am, practiced rhyming, back when I am
13, 14, 15, 16 surely scores depict no listening
That would be incorrect, there was passion
My pen’s been writing rhythms since the day I touched a pad to it
Don't stop I can feel the rhythm
Call me Doc prescribing knowledge they say gosh he pop off problems
Feeling Godly every time the lightening hit em
Call me Brock I’m into Onyx, back when Pac was making Paclypse
I was in my momma’s stomach writing rhythms
I’m a prophet I’m Mohamed, day I stop’s the day a comet
Sets the world ablaze for days despite religion
Call me Brock I’m into Onyx, back when Pac was making Paclypse
I was in my momma’s stomach writing rhythms