Stigmata
I push that pedal yeah that petrol
They be gassin up my mental
When you come around you pay that toll yeah not that Jethro
We showed up at the venue and that shit was packed like dead full
We're coming for the throne yeah I put that on my dead folk
Deep inside my recesses this wasn't after lunch time
That was 24/7 I'm sick of the fucking punchlines
Your brother well addicted yeah he really like to punch lines
Woke up like I'm Chris Travis I knew that it was crunch time
Pineapple Fanta with a splash of that arm and hammer
They put that hammer to the arm and started working at the stigmata
You best get armed with hammers
The hammers pull back in tandem
This shit better not be random
You make sure that the stick matters, yeah
I'm back in my hell again
If you make a statement, please make sure that is relevant
Your bars not getting stronger cuz you wearin' brand new Vetements
Pass back to the Young J, IDK how we not pestilent
We boutta casually drop masterpieces
Flow gracefully my shit like ballerinas
Keep the heat like planet Venus
Y'all done made Max a demon, flow so clean the lyrics gleamin'
Play with me you niggas playin' God, I'll call you Morgan Freeman
My rhymes too sharp I got producers bleeding
I don't do raps about cocaine so you confused how I still got you feinding
Been built for greatness since I got to dreaming
I saw my mama struggle back when I was 8 and then I got to scheming
I rap classically, killing shit fantastically
Mad tragedy seems to follow niggas coming after me
I murder shit with ease all my opponents see the apathy
So, if you fuck with me I'll embarrass your whole family, stupid
You wanna try me then do it, but put some effort into it
You talk shit I talk money, me and Max really fluent
Killing beats is amusing, bro I can teach you to do it
See all my opps going through it, because they tired of losing
They be gassin up my mental
When you come around you pay that toll yeah not that Jethro
We showed up at the venue and that shit was packed like dead full
We're coming for the throne yeah I put that on my dead folk
Deep inside my recesses this wasn't after lunch time
That was 24/7 I'm sick of the fucking punchlines
Your brother well addicted yeah he really like to punch lines
Woke up like I'm Chris Travis I knew that it was crunch time
Pineapple Fanta with a splash of that arm and hammer
They put that hammer to the arm and started working at the stigmata
You best get armed with hammers
The hammers pull back in tandem
This shit better not be random
You make sure that the stick matters, yeah
I'm back in my hell again
If you make a statement, please make sure that is relevant
Your bars not getting stronger cuz you wearin' brand new Vetements
Pass back to the Young J, IDK how we not pestilent
We boutta casually drop masterpieces
Flow gracefully my shit like ballerinas
Keep the heat like planet Venus
Y'all done made Max a demon, flow so clean the lyrics gleamin'
Play with me you niggas playin' God, I'll call you Morgan Freeman
My rhymes too sharp I got producers bleeding
I don't do raps about cocaine so you confused how I still got you feinding
Been built for greatness since I got to dreaming
I saw my mama struggle back when I was 8 and then I got to scheming
I rap classically, killing shit fantastically
Mad tragedy seems to follow niggas coming after me
I murder shit with ease all my opponents see the apathy
So, if you fuck with me I'll embarrass your whole family, stupid
You wanna try me then do it, but put some effort into it
You talk shit I talk money, me and Max really fluent
Killing beats is amusing, bro I can teach you to do it
See all my opps going through it, because they tired of losing
Credits
Writer(s): Maxwell B
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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