Hardwired
Hmm
It's your life coach speaking
Yeah, hmm, go
I don't rap no more, I make statements
You don't wanna ask no more for bank statements
Reminiscing when I wrote those songs from Frank's basement
Now I run laps around tracks for my amazement
Chilling with a bottle of Teeling, I got my own drink
Looking at some pictures of Blaq, oh, he got a nose ring
Coming from Wild Intentionz, now I'm rocking with the whole team
Never loved jewelry, but she gifted me a gold ring
You can keep the shine, I'm trying to find rhythm with cohesion
Put my homies on, 'cause on remains a preposition
Fighting from within, I see my hommies got the Sicca syndrome
Looking like some Pyscho symptoms mixed with Jhené Aiko singing
The spell bound like my words got some typos in 'em
It's pyro when my biro hit 'em
Microscopic vision mixed with bible reading
The cycles repeating, it's mutiny
But they can't strip me of my title, I'm winning
It's your life coach spitting
Spoken words like words are meant to be spoken
Y'all sound Like broken records, but records are meant to be broken (mm)
Your records are meant to be broken, repeat it and sounds provoking
Like the way I'm raping these beats, you should get the Feminist coven
The genre of my music is the prophecy I show 'em
Playing vinyl records in this circus they promoting
Playing poker with these jokers, a King in front jesters
Let the jealousy fester, I'm second guessing the Tesla
Self-motivation, the drive is not for pedestrians
From the school of thought that wasn't taught by a lecturer
Is it real, is it fact? Let's reconvene on that
Y'all saying with this smoke but came with a nicotine patch
Facts
Hiding behind words like women saying they plus-size
When they really fat, the difference is not in the cup size
Or where their thighs touch, it's really no longer a surprise
The thicker, the quicker they burst pipes
But I wouldn't subscribe... to it
Trap
They got you for your own music
I saw your contracts, your lawyers are really moving stupid
Facts
They hate me but really can't do nothing to me
Sylvester Stallone, I bring the muscle to these corporate movies
Classic
It's your life coach speaking
Yeah, hmm, go
I don't rap no more, I make statements
You don't wanna ask no more for bank statements
Reminiscing when I wrote those songs from Frank's basement
Now I run laps around tracks for my amazement
Chilling with a bottle of Teeling, I got my own drink
Looking at some pictures of Blaq, oh, he got a nose ring
Coming from Wild Intentionz, now I'm rocking with the whole team
Never loved jewelry, but she gifted me a gold ring
You can keep the shine, I'm trying to find rhythm with cohesion
Put my homies on, 'cause on remains a preposition
Fighting from within, I see my hommies got the Sicca syndrome
Looking like some Pyscho symptoms mixed with Jhené Aiko singing
The spell bound like my words got some typos in 'em
It's pyro when my biro hit 'em
Microscopic vision mixed with bible reading
The cycles repeating, it's mutiny
But they can't strip me of my title, I'm winning
It's your life coach spitting
Spoken words like words are meant to be spoken
Y'all sound Like broken records, but records are meant to be broken (mm)
Your records are meant to be broken, repeat it and sounds provoking
Like the way I'm raping these beats, you should get the Feminist coven
The genre of my music is the prophecy I show 'em
Playing vinyl records in this circus they promoting
Playing poker with these jokers, a King in front jesters
Let the jealousy fester, I'm second guessing the Tesla
Self-motivation, the drive is not for pedestrians
From the school of thought that wasn't taught by a lecturer
Is it real, is it fact? Let's reconvene on that
Y'all saying with this smoke but came with a nicotine patch
Facts
Hiding behind words like women saying they plus-size
When they really fat, the difference is not in the cup size
Or where their thighs touch, it's really no longer a surprise
The thicker, the quicker they burst pipes
But I wouldn't subscribe... to it
Trap
They got you for your own music
I saw your contracts, your lawyers are really moving stupid
Facts
They hate me but really can't do nothing to me
Sylvester Stallone, I bring the muscle to these corporate movies
Classic
Credits
Writer(s): Esosa Douglas Osemwengie, Gilbert Nwaubani
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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