From the Creation

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Fashawn] Look in the mirror: are you a reflection or an image? A person or a persona, real thing or a gimmick? I hate when rappers get on the mic and act timid They must have never came in contact with a menace In the lab with the 'Chemist, loading up ammunition In my path for the listeners, fans, and the critics Niggas out getting it, trying to advance to a million And trying to their fam in positions Where they ain't gotta rap, shoot hoops or pitch grams for a living 10 G's to a hundred grand, keep it consistent The exact definition of a man on a mission To take over the land, expand demolition Wonder how many syllables I can cram in this sentence? Like a general I command your attention I be killing 'em, every stanza is venom In my B-boy stance, can't help but glance at a nigga [Verse 2: The Alchemist] So in the summer I'm getting dumber Doing my digits, doing my numbers Rappers are similar, six are 1, half-a-dozen are the other I'm custom cut control, rock a windsuit and some Timberlands Touch the floor and guard my space, 'til they carve my face In the side of a mountain like Rushmore I'm prophetic, doctor the drums with a medic Could end up like I'm fresher than lettuce and get shredded I'm ready, yo, I'll stand next to the sprinkler without getting wetted Don't step in my circle, no doubt, get deaded Serve 'em no cut like video footage without the edit Emperor, thinking, "What the fuck I need a pencil for When I could scrape the corners without a Desert?" I'm a criminal into vandalism Whoever want attention, stomp 'em out and whoever's standing with 'em [Verse 3: Roc C] I'm the line-deliverer, used to be sinister Six shots in the Glock, pop at your Senator Tend to be nice, put a price on my own life Then I thought about: better off killing myself I'm the, rhyme-ratcher, gun packer I'll bitch smack a nigga up then laugh after Cold cash or back to dirty braids, back to crime pays Back on my parkay, buddy or entrée I'm the Bombay, general strikes John Forté, moonwalk in on the court date, the boy's late Puff puff pass to another date Clock stopped tickin' now, guess that's my fate Hold weight, fornicator skate out the front door Been smoking so long, I know I'll never overdose Still petrol, me, I'm not Tie 'em up, leave a note at your spot, like we need that [Verse 4: Oh No] In the symphony, orchestrated, of course they hate it The forces foreign, dangerous flow, painting a picture Off rhythmic movement, move with music Moods is muses, dumbfound stupid nuisance New shit, hang 'em like nooses 'til their brain part Their nucleus, I'm nuke 'em and show 'em we do this Got no, foolish focus, I pray for my foes Folks posted unnoticed, near when the twin's bolstered I get toasted and toasted bottles of Moët Then pour it out for my old set Gangrene, that's a threat on the globe Verbal tech, technicians, herbal vet load the ammunition Made them kill the ambition with this man's wisdom Then gas and match in the brain, more enlighten 'em Pay attention or played attention Y'all lame, y'all rather play in the Pain Olympics, uh...