Salvo (feat. Asa Jake)

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Kirk

Kirk is a Scottish and Northern English word meaning "church", or more specifically, the Church of Scotland. Many place names and personal names are derived from it. more »

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Fleece Army; guns'll pop
If one appear, they run in fear
Like street joggers we run the block
You gettin' knocked like someone's here
I've been summoned here to just stir the pot
Act like I ain't fuckin' clear
Or you hear with a ruptured ear,
Might switch up career to a puppeteer
'cause these arms'll make dummies talk
I'm the type to grip arms, I don't hold hands
I'll fill a strip, then make it rain
Then pussies pop like a pole dance
Plans to stop? Bitch, there's no chance
Not a fan of rock, but I roll bands
Wouldn't know bars if you were in 'em, and on 'em with Roseanne
If you pressed, then I'd suggest you to do shit
Get ya chest fuckin' pressed in for confusin'
We are the best from Manchester to Houston
I'm stickin' a tech into ya neck then like a noose, you gon' get a round
Killer sounds in the booth, kid
The kid is out. Been a big child since my youth and I still am now, but a bit wild and more Ruthless
I don't kid around, give this kid a round and I'm shootin'
What's time, cunts? I invented time. So ahead of mine, lunchtime is my dinnertime
Fall is Spring and Summer time is my Winter time
Skilled as I? Your punchlines are my filler lines
Dickin' ya bitch. Drip? Mine's on lily pond
Trick, this is my synagogue
I been a god
Your men ain't hard, you a Digimon to a demigod
Your silly squad got meaner bars?
Y'all really thought
Feel the evil; put wrists into it
Take shots in the dark til we hop in the hearts and the heads of the people who listen to It, get this into it and this influence feels so fuckin' cerebral, but still won't do shit to stop Little weasels like Ben Shabibo somehow convincing people it isn't music
"...in the view of my music theorist father"
Now you pussies gettin washed like Summers Eve
If you try to put me in a box then I'm gonna swing
An incinerator with a tongue and I'm gonna fling fire flames finna f*ck up ya furniture Don't F*ck with me
Little biddie bitch, she found out I'm with Golden Fleece
More like floatin' geese when we coast on beats, GOAT at frees
And you'll be waitin' til it's done bitch, no one sees
Except for Asa, he the one who oversees

Overseas emcees are over, see?
You ripping off the Fleece but we're exposing sheep
Tryna put the Fleece on cuz I'm cold
I mean I'll make you change your tone; Vitiligo disease 
Leave me alone for weeks
I'll critique and tweak the Mona Lisa
Create a whole new piece and sell it for more than four times the original Leonardo DaVinci piece was sold for
So it'll go for three
Trillion dollars and I think that would be a steal
Charge em even more for the easel 
The artillery I weird really will kill
We quell with the quill the weak-willed 
Ain't equal
Ink will have em ink wills
You only men online, call it E-mail 
To be real
I ain't feeling your words but hands down I'm touching the paper
Like I read Braille
Syllable gun'll give em a millimeter round 
Thinkin' you be sicker than me when I get on a beat?
Anybody who be thinkin' they're fittin' to compete 
Is gonna be gettin to greet the ground
You ain't listen to me
What I mean is I'm finna beat you down 
Yeah I'll beat you down; you'll get beat up
If you're down to meet then we can meet up
Once you're down and defeated I'll put my feet up
Next time don't put me down when you bring me up
Give anybody three weeks to
Be inking frees that beat the Fleece' stuff
Won't be enough
We need the green, need the bucks
So bring the receipt to receive the feature 
She Cheated
It's super sad
Only in your Dreams is she going to come back
But still you Chaser
That track where you two collab
Is the only time we gon' see an ex screw-in Dax
YouTuber rap is some shit I'm the best at
Hands down
Get it, it's not a question 
Your taleNt's a myth and your spit is pathetic
You rappers equivalent to shit like Macbeth 
When he has a soliloquy 
Thinkin' that the dagger that he's imagining's actually real
What I mean is you defenseless 
It's all in your mind; you ain't really gripping a weapon 
When I pick up a pen, I'm the best spitter out Manchester
Put lead in man's chest if he doubt
Bars so excellent
Got an excess amount
Spit exits my mouth and X's em out 
Get left with a frown if you F'ing around
Could do turn-up or lyrical, I perfect every style
Ain't a game but it's like Piggy In The Middle when I'm grippin' on the metal
Pig's catching a round

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