Lyrics

[Verse 1] Iconoclasmic magic Nalyd Ecitsuj who is that It just sounds like a faggot How could I battle all these ratchets with nothing but a ratchet and a crescent wrench Trying to choke out a bitch with a maggot for a turnaquet Tables is turned again Five mixtapes in watch me churn it then turn around and hate on it and burn it But hell, Satan will wear a sweater before I get rich from this shit; best believe I've earned it I'm concerning these rappers best be learnin' or getting they wheels in they head a turning Spits out the axel I hear em cackle I'm the new slave the background noise is the sound of my shackles I was raised in the era when If you don't plug your mixtape over and over again til' people wanna take a bobby pin and hand it to their friend so they can plug they eyeballs with it Eyelids; talking bout the cordeas