Sparring Session
Yo, when we do this, fans throw they hands up like
Wacky-waving-inflatable-arm flailing-tube man
Pack a venue, put the stage on the menu
Continue coming with force out of this world like the Ginyu
You ain't never seen this, kid from the future
Unsheathing his genius, trunks on some DBZ shit
My mic check's the kiss of the dragon
Jet Li in a black mask, kicking late supporters off the back of the bandwagon
The boom bap Ermac, using sorcery to kick raps with
African American black magic
Fuck a gun, purple [?] my DBZ shit
Cut a rapper tongue while he emceeing, he ain't even see it
[?] I'm coming like them WorldStar punches
The crowd start forming then yo heart start thumping
Bass pumping, moving yo feet, we shaking up the streets
Godzilla feet, beat Rodan in a beat
metaphors, bounty hunting Boba Fett, Megazord
Punching out contenders like Ganondorf
While these labels using interpolation to hide samples
Removing the soul, the jungle of radio club anthems
Too creative for living dormant – super human black boy
Vocally Virgil Hawkins, static shocking my chakras
The dialect is electric
The luminous explosion of energy outshine the whole galaxy
Supernova soliloquies
The lyrical lobotomist
As I break ground, sonar, my boom bap rocking shit, I shift the continent
Word is bond with beats like a symbiote
Building pyramids with all my mental blocks
Beat a beat, could be the Ramses of the rap scene
Pharaohs and free kings blessing download links, preach
Say your graces, hail marying they faces
They Pastor Ma$e and the Bad Boys have been forsaken
Relay the message, thumping in your section
It's not a cypher, this is a sparring session
Use your mind as a weapon, we detonate on a record
T-minus 3, 2, 1 seconds, now mic check it
Pacifist kids turn anarchist
The archer artist adjust the scope, focused as Clint Barton
Bending corners with a poison gas arrow for six targets
Don't get me started, uh, spawn and dearly departed
Bringing maximum carnage, be your own Basquiat
Put yourself in your art and originality's tarnished by
Fear, not belonging, that's what you walk on your own two for
Welcome to the Clone War
Repeat it, tell 'em copy that
I have 'em saying 10-4 - nigga 10-4
Gamma rays, microwaves, and tinfoil
Sparking minds, young intellectuals, I am light, illuminate
We as bright as a bezel, that's why we shining on levels
Keep an eye on the treble
Downloading an album, Jack Sparrow
We stick to the script, but coffee stains turn me to improv
You couldn't hang with a sprained ankle, escaping the lynch mob
Mechanical maniac, mechanism do the knowledge
Cannibalistic mind opening Anthony Hopkins
I got a jetpack with two handles made out of microphones
Blast these raps off when I blast off
Leonidas when writing, two hundred and ninety nine people behind
Soldiers without the guns
The one, the author from Sparta they bring us to be fearless
Surround us with drugs and violence
Then move to the suburbs where cops become your new rivals
(Sir, do you know what I'm stopping you for?)
As the world keep spinning 'round, thunder clouds, lightning showers
Shining down, raining, hit the ground and burn down the town
Staring at these man-made bright lights
I got sun in my eyes, my lids wide
I'm climbing – staring at these walls, all four sides
For three nights, I ain't even blink twice
One time behind me, one time beside me
Looking up, up in the sky, praying that I start flying
Like angels with wings and a halo, they know
Fuck do they know, these kids shooting like it's Halo 4
With 4-5's, where we tell 'em
Wacky-waving-inflatable-arm flailing-tube man
Pack a venue, put the stage on the menu
Continue coming with force out of this world like the Ginyu
You ain't never seen this, kid from the future
Unsheathing his genius, trunks on some DBZ shit
My mic check's the kiss of the dragon
Jet Li in a black mask, kicking late supporters off the back of the bandwagon
The boom bap Ermac, using sorcery to kick raps with
African American black magic
Fuck a gun, purple [?] my DBZ shit
Cut a rapper tongue while he emceeing, he ain't even see it
[?] I'm coming like them WorldStar punches
The crowd start forming then yo heart start thumping
Bass pumping, moving yo feet, we shaking up the streets
Godzilla feet, beat Rodan in a beat
metaphors, bounty hunting Boba Fett, Megazord
Punching out contenders like Ganondorf
While these labels using interpolation to hide samples
Removing the soul, the jungle of radio club anthems
Too creative for living dormant – super human black boy
Vocally Virgil Hawkins, static shocking my chakras
The dialect is electric
The luminous explosion of energy outshine the whole galaxy
Supernova soliloquies
The lyrical lobotomist
As I break ground, sonar, my boom bap rocking shit, I shift the continent
Word is bond with beats like a symbiote
Building pyramids with all my mental blocks
Beat a beat, could be the Ramses of the rap scene
Pharaohs and free kings blessing download links, preach
Say your graces, hail marying they faces
They Pastor Ma$e and the Bad Boys have been forsaken
Relay the message, thumping in your section
It's not a cypher, this is a sparring session
Use your mind as a weapon, we detonate on a record
T-minus 3, 2, 1 seconds, now mic check it
Pacifist kids turn anarchist
The archer artist adjust the scope, focused as Clint Barton
Bending corners with a poison gas arrow for six targets
Don't get me started, uh, spawn and dearly departed
Bringing maximum carnage, be your own Basquiat
Put yourself in your art and originality's tarnished by
Fear, not belonging, that's what you walk on your own two for
Welcome to the Clone War
Repeat it, tell 'em copy that
I have 'em saying 10-4 - nigga 10-4
Gamma rays, microwaves, and tinfoil
Sparking minds, young intellectuals, I am light, illuminate
We as bright as a bezel, that's why we shining on levels
Keep an eye on the treble
Downloading an album, Jack Sparrow
We stick to the script, but coffee stains turn me to improv
You couldn't hang with a sprained ankle, escaping the lynch mob
Mechanical maniac, mechanism do the knowledge
Cannibalistic mind opening Anthony Hopkins
I got a jetpack with two handles made out of microphones
Blast these raps off when I blast off
Leonidas when writing, two hundred and ninety nine people behind
Soldiers without the guns
The one, the author from Sparta they bring us to be fearless
Surround us with drugs and violence
Then move to the suburbs where cops become your new rivals
(Sir, do you know what I'm stopping you for?)
As the world keep spinning 'round, thunder clouds, lightning showers
Shining down, raining, hit the ground and burn down the town
Staring at these man-made bright lights
I got sun in my eyes, my lids wide
I'm climbing – staring at these walls, all four sides
For three nights, I ain't even blink twice
One time behind me, one time beside me
Looking up, up in the sky, praying that I start flying
Like angels with wings and a halo, they know
Fuck do they know, these kids shooting like it's Halo 4
With 4-5's, where we tell 'em
Credits
Writer(s): Jarred Douglas, Jarrel Deon Lowman, Emile V Manette, Kortez Ilajide Marion
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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