lyrics
Skilled when he writes but is he ill on the mic,
well they say: "off the dome, I guess he's talking dope"
and he's feeling it's like he's been the best with raps,
but these weaker dudes have always said he's wack,
so let me tell you bout' that moniker cat,
he started at fourteen writing sloppier raps,
and kept writing a verse until he dropped it on tracks,
made his demo tape... no one's calling him back,
a couple of years, beers and mastering flows,
his grades slipping but he's catching a show,
battling dudes til' he shattered their lines,
by taking the pieces til' he crafted a rhyme,
rebuttals were sick but he knew in his had,
that it'd be awhile til' he hit puberty yet,
so he hit his peak, I guess nobody watched,
cause his lyrics were dope but his flowing was off,
nineteen now watching college approach,
but he's calling it quits, now they're calling him dope...
I'm not calling him dope but guy probably can't even freestyle...
I'm better with raps cause I'm ahead of the class,
fuck your pen and your pad you'll get detention for that,
that's disrespect and I'm a cynical peer,
cause I'm sick like *insert simile here,*
a slick talker that's embarrassing threats,
tearing heads off hipsters swearing they vets,
then step to their bitch so I can stare at her breasts,
but if loves blind, I shouldn't stare at her chest... fuck it,
I want a bitch sucking my dick, touching her clit,
bust on her face with cum on her lips,
anyways, I'm kind of a freak,
and hungry as fuck for the grimiest beats,
but these producers are kinda just weak,
pussies smell like fish and I'm trying to eat...
credits
from
Elegant Tux,
released September 5, 2012
BEAT: Task The Samsara
MC: Lost Moniker
license