Dilla's Delights
You ain't heard of me, got the chakra, Jinchurriki
Criticism ain't hurting me, don't see it as a curse to me
I'm zoning, knock the beat out like some Melatonin
I can tell I'm chosen, and I say for certainly
Going to war with me and Rodie, the bad batch
Game a wasteland, I feel like Mad Max
These people so out of breath, they got some Anthrax
These pussies bleeding after words, get em a Tampax
I predict before it happens, and it turns out some damn facts
Invited to your home, but now they switching on you
Turning a Resident evil
So I be gone, and I'm shooting bitches like I'm Leon
I've been the missing piece, my journey for rap has been wicked
Where I'm missing peace
I see the industry, and I state the fake
They're missing me, they need to search out like Nathan Drake
Round two, Rodie bout to bring the monsoon
We grip the mic, show you motherfuckers how we do
Take em back, take em back to the nineties
Gods Glory power, something like nine teams
Me and Mitch shining something like high beams
When we done, the beat looking like a crime scene
If rap was a mountain, we on the hilltop
We never flip flop, the flows tip top
Skin thicker than Hillary Duff, the duffel is stuffed
Money bags, running it up, now count to
A hunnid, cause nobody fucking with us
Funny enough, in my sights you covering up
Rap game cluttering up, enough is enough
Time to take em all out, glock bubbling up
Summing it up, we about to take over
Who's the best? Gods Glory hoe, debate over
Criticism ain't hurting me, don't see it as a curse to me
I'm zoning, knock the beat out like some Melatonin
I can tell I'm chosen, and I say for certainly
Going to war with me and Rodie, the bad batch
Game a wasteland, I feel like Mad Max
These people so out of breath, they got some Anthrax
These pussies bleeding after words, get em a Tampax
I predict before it happens, and it turns out some damn facts
Invited to your home, but now they switching on you
Turning a Resident evil
So I be gone, and I'm shooting bitches like I'm Leon
I've been the missing piece, my journey for rap has been wicked
Where I'm missing peace
I see the industry, and I state the fake
They're missing me, they need to search out like Nathan Drake
Round two, Rodie bout to bring the monsoon
We grip the mic, show you motherfuckers how we do
Take em back, take em back to the nineties
Gods Glory power, something like nine teams
Me and Mitch shining something like high beams
When we done, the beat looking like a crime scene
If rap was a mountain, we on the hilltop
We never flip flop, the flows tip top
Skin thicker than Hillary Duff, the duffel is stuffed
Money bags, running it up, now count to
A hunnid, cause nobody fucking with us
Funny enough, in my sights you covering up
Rap game cluttering up, enough is enough
Time to take em all out, glock bubbling up
Summing it up, we about to take over
Who's the best? Gods Glory hoe, debate over
Credits
Writer(s): Mitchell Fish
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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