Plunders Of War

No matter your habit or happenstance If you happen to take a stance with these fascists I'll drag your raggedy old bastardly ass across this whole fucking tragedy track And leave you in the trash with Glad bags and some battery packs I'm back back, like a dummy who's been here before Stunning with funny money that's funded through plunders of war Your Son, Joe, and the key is slipped under the door An unspoken agreement, like a pimp slipped under a whore Your Son, Joe, wicked since I was fed through a cord Listless and mentally bored, distant impending divorce Discmans invented, before that, I was tending to chores That was just setting the course, this kid was meant to record This kid was meant to record Locked in a bathroom without a pen and just remembering, or Popping some Method in the deck, getting dismembered with swords Gone Till November, some D, and yes, Eminem was a tremendous force But I'm fed up with these Reddit repetitive petty trolls Indebted to those who said it, instead of Da Vinci Codes Invented the post-poetic, and vetted the CFOs And whether or not you get it, I'm better than all these bozos and bros And even if I haven't been signed, shit, I've been spitting since the kid was knee-high Shit, I've been spitting since this kid was in a Neon, in a neon shirt With double B on, before Beyon even be on earth But I'm on some Survivor shit, like Eminem going dry on a Revival kick Like many men driving by and popping nine on Fif Hip hop giant, C-N-Ying, and like Dylan spit fire And I don't need the wire if the nylon fits Just like I don't need to buy it, I just try on quick Just like, I'm a drink a pint and not some five ounce spit Defiant, one day as a lion, like a fly on shit It's the one and only, must be lonely, Hyphen been your homie since like Rice-A-Roni Didn't know that knife was on me Didn't know that price was only just to know that price was gone be Out your range, doubt my range, shout out my motherfucking name It's the one and only, juxtaposing, Hyphen part the poet, right, and part jabroni Writing prose and farting, only tightest flows Don't even get me started with these dirty Spartans CNY and Clinton kid at heart, dig in, pick it apart It's the one and only, up the nosey, then I start composing Up and up the nose, and then explode, I'm Boeing The next episode, in wrecking mode, in leper mode, I'm shedding clothes In betting mode, 'cause motherfuckers never give me credit, but I'm better though In a leather coat, with the V for Vendetta goals, I keep, and, or, edit those Retweet for a better post The Rocksteady and Bebop of boom bap in Shredder mode I got Tom Petty and D-Block in two stacks, I'm ready go Ready go, like a two by four like I'm Hacksaw Ready go, like a four by four with the axle low Ready go, in an Uber or in a taxi Ready go, I got to poop once more, it's the meat snacks, bro I hope you're enjoying the sixes Rope your boy in the mix, I'm a token toy with the pigment I'm overjoyed by your visit, OG from the beginning Oh jeez, I ain't a gangster, a wank away from a wangster Finish, finish