This shit sound like God don't it, something you can bump up in the ride rolling, Shorty on the side and she high rolling, ha, Whole team fly yea we high soaring, and y'all niggas boring with ya corny ass stories, I won't let em interfere with my moment , I'm grinding out like I should be, Be me? Shit you wish you could see, I ain't got time for no hood beef, And that trap rap is all bull see, And if you claiming you racked out, why you Robbin doin dirt, and see I may not be racked out, But I bet I make millions of a verse , cuz I get on beats and I flood the streets, Even Noah couldn't build shot to stop this flood, Tired of em dragging niggas names through the mud, so I murder every track and write my name in the blood, Kill ya self if you a hatin ass nigga please reveal yaself, And if you claiming you the champ ima steal the belt, Cuz doin shit y'all way is why we in this hell
I'm raps Messiah, Spitting fire, No questioning and no compromising, When I leave the booth its engulfed in flames, I won't stop til the globe chantin Jordan's name,
they done passed the torch, Bringing lyricism back through massive force, I done came from the struggle and my hustle is this music shit all I needs my rapping voice
I know you hear me coming, I see you niggas running, I'm talking full blown rapture shit, So bow down when the master hits
The Chicago MC embarks on a thoroughly modern hip-hop outing, bristling with metallic rhythms and timely socio-political quips. Bandcamp Album of the Day May 30, 2019