Lyrics

I'm throwing wack rappers in the trash can with the junk mail Fashion -posing like they're upscale. I'm Joe-fucking-Lunchpail Young males become frail. Hidden away like a sickly royal Avoid disappointment remain strictly loyal to Ricky Doyle Covered in sticky oil and going off the deep end. Grimy Crazy beats. JVC RC-M90 You know where to find me. Chilling. Living in a snow cave No grave can hold me. You're getting hit by a rogue wave Close shave. Your style is fragile like ceramic Throw me in a dungeon but power doesn't panic Mechanical animal. Sharp teeth and snarls darkly Don't wanna talk. Two-handеd tomahawk. Charles Barkley I'm losing my marbles. I'm dеmented So many styles I invented And I'm dedicated. Solemnly sworn And I'm letting knowledge be born Shark mode. Going down a dark road. Crusader Lay claim. Take aim. Shoot the invader. Communicator Drum break accumulator. One-take demon waiting Clear print - near mint. European grading though Fading slow. You can't see me like a microbe Wearing a white robe. Yo, I'm hard to kill like Loab Maniac psycho. Chi Ali. We believe Quick turns. Sick burns. They're classified in three degrees I'm Nanook of the north country. I crack a cold Palm Bay Say farewell. I'll send you back - straight to hell like Dante To complicate matters, these rappers are small radius Standing in the tall shadow of the gods, I'm the shadiest Serious. I send love to the good people of Syria The samurai. Gratified. I meet the criteria Casting a wide net that properly covers the verse I'll make your shit look worse like the Property Brothers