Lyrical Assassin (feat. Q*)

The skills of an emcee is something one should never trifle with Not only is rap a part of hip hop, it's a lifestyle An art form so technical and precise That it's meant to make you think And for those who are too quick to get offended It's meant to press your buttons Press the button to begin Yeah The story of my motherfuckin life Some say I don't look like I can rock the mic And some wouldn't even think it But you know what? It's whatever I'll show y'all motherfuckers what I can do this beat I'ma rip this fucking beat while I be making records While you rappers be getting cucked on at every eighty seconds You call yourself a fuckin' emcee but that's a joke You better take your ass back at home 'fore you think you're smacking hoes But you be hoe-less, your pockets are full of roaches I'm dropping dimes out of nowhere like I'm Nikola Jokic 'Cause I'm a broke bitch, tryna' get into showbiz Filming a porno scene, wondering where the mistletoe is Regardless if my fuckin' sarcasm was right or wrong I'm the type to end your career with a microphone I might've had enough of your shit when I write this song So I'ma jump you at your own concert, leaving your wife at home And leaving your ass with nobody to come and miss you With your boys preoccupied with lube and a bunch of tissues Spitting rizz to these fuckin' hoes and shit wives The only time you'll be cumming is when I force you inside Lyrical assassin, when I be rapping You're going batshit 'til you're fuckin' blasted, that's it (If you think you got what it takes, then bring it Or I'ma flip you off with both of these middle fingers) I'm a fuckin' madman, when I be rapping You're going batshit 'til your head is plastered, that's it (If you think you got what it takes, you're faking 'Cause I could see right through the bullshit that you be sayin') Uh, 'cause I can see through that bullshit that you be sayin', bro My nigga got me on this track, so we let it go Gotta stay dripped up, and I'm talkin' head-to-toe I don't want your bitch, mane, she a itty-bitty hoe So just call me crow, but I ain't scared Uh, I'll bring these niggas to the morgue, pallbearer Nah, I can't be really be worried 'cause I don't care Me and Bryce on a track, we finna kill shit So don't you dare Even step, boy, what you rep You better protect ya neck, nigga 'Cause if we come through, we finna slide, boy Really ride around, tryna' see something die, boy Uh, so don't you play wit it, we stay wit it And I gotta make this chicken, ain't no Raising Cane's in it Ain't no Raising Cane's When we hop on a track and burst into flames Lyrical assassin, when I be rapping You're going batshit 'til you're fuckin' blasted, that's it (If you think you got what it takes, then bring it Or I'ma flip you off with both of these middle fingers) I'm a fuckin' madman, when I be rapping You're going batshit 'til your head is plastered, that's it (If you think you got what it takes, you're faking 'Cause I could see right through the bullshit that you be sayin') Lyrical assassin, when I be rapping You're going batshit 'til you're fuckin' blasted, that's it (If you think you got what it takes, then bring it Or I'ma flip you off with both of these middle fingers) I'm a fuckin' madman, when I be rapping You're going batshit 'til your head is plastered, that's it (If you think you got what it takes, you're faking 'Cause I could see right through the bullshit that you be sayin')