Lyrical Assassin

The skills of an emcee is something one should never trifle with
Not only is rap a part of hip hop, it's a lifestyle
An art form so technical and precise
That it's meant to make you think
And for those who are too quick to get offended
It's meant to press your buttons
Press the button to begin

Yeah
The story of my motherfuckin life
Some say I don't look like I can rock the mic
And some wouldn't even think it
But you know what? It's whatever
I'll show y'all motherfuckers what I can do this beat

I'ma rip this fucking beat while I be making records
While you rappers getting cucked on at every eighty seconds
You call yourself a fuckin' emcee but that's a joke
You better take your ass back at home
'Fore you think you're smacking hoes
But you be hoe-less, your pockets are full of roaches
I'm dropping dimes out of nowhere like I'm Nikola Jokic
'Cause I'm a broke bitch, tryna' get into showbiz
Filming a porno scene, wondering where the mistletoe is
Regardless if my fuckin' sarcasm was right or wrong
I'm the type to end your career with a microphone
I might've had enough of your shit when I write this song
So I'ma jump you at your own concert, leaving your wife at home
And leaving your ass with nobody to come and miss you
With your boys preoccupied with lube and a bunch of tissues
Spitting rizz to these fuckin' hoes and shit wives
The only time you'll be cumming is when I force you inside

Lyrical assassin, when I be rapping
You're going batshit 'til you're fuckin' blasted, that's it
(If you think you got what it takes, then bring it
Or I'ma flip you off with both of these middle fingers)
I'm a fuckin' madman, when I be rapping
You're going batshit 'til your head is plastered, that's it
(If you think you got what it takes, you're faking
'Cause I could see right through the bullshit that you be sayin')

Uh, 'cause I can see through that bullshit that you be sayin', bro
My nigga got me on this track, so we let it go
Gotta stay dripped up, and I'm talkin' head-to-toe
I don't want your bitch, mane, she a itty-bitty hoe
So just call me crow, but I ain't scared
Uh, I'll bring these niggas to the morgue, pallbearer
Nah, I can't be really be worried 'cause I don't care
Me and Bryce on a track, we finna kill shit
So don't you dare
Even step, boy, what you rep
You better protect ya neck, nigga
'Cause if we come through, we finna slide, boy
Really ride around, tryna' see something die, boy
Uh, so don't you play wit it, we stay wit it
And I gotta make this chicken, ain't no Raising Cane's in it
Ain't no Raising Cane's
When we hop on a track and burst into flames

Lyrical assassin, when I be rapping
You're going batshit 'til you're fuckin' blasted, that's it
(If you think you got what it takes, then bring it
Or I'ma flip you off with both of these middle fingers)
I'm a fuckin' madman, when I be rapping
You're going batshit 'til your head is plastered, that's it
(If you think you got what it takes, you're faking
'Cause I could see right through the bullshit that you be sayin')
Lyrical assassin, when I be rapping
You're going batshit 'til you're fuckin' blasted, that's it
(If you think you got what it takes, then bring it
Or I'ma flip you off with both of these middle fingers)
I'm a fuckin' madman, when I be rapping
You're going batshit 'til your head is plastered, that's it
(If you think you got what it takes, you're faking
'Cause I could see right through the bullshit that you be sayin')