One mic, that’s all
One pen, that’s all
One piece of paper, that’s all
But if there’s none to be had, that’s okay
Dope beats, that’s all
Stage and speakers, that’s all
But if there’s none to be had, that’s okay
You can still listen to this rap a cappella
A journey of 64 bars begins
Delivering sweet nothings in your ear
Want to get high legally? I’m your delivery
Special Agent Spice working magic on these words
Departing from Bass Drum to the Snare
All the way from the sticks, do it!
Ripping into a verse in front of Umeda station
Once a stupid brat whose weapons were ignorance,
Smart aleck comebacks, and sharp pen tips
Repeatedly told I was a wannabe, just superficial cleverness
Do you remember me?
My “mentor” from bygone days, how are ya?
Still playing the field?
Or have you called it quits…
Undiluted sperm flows from my pen tip again tonight
Clueless about hiphop
Tossed in front of a crowd that couldn’t say no
Did everything I could and ultimately got their attention
Not your average club rapper, I worked my way up
Back in the day…
Major fail shows
Massive hit shows
So-so shows
Kept repeating the cycle of survival
You can only win rigged races, you’re the village livestock
Beef or chicken and pork
Herbivore, carnivore, what a pain
Staring hard at what’s trending
The streets fill up with imitations again
Your lyrics are kindergarten level
My lyrics could fill up 10 dictionaries
Your verses are autotuned
My verses are filled with overlapping meanings
Fumble and three point
Mumble and spit
All verified
Epidemic and terminal syndromes
On the top of eraser shavings
Meeting up 10 years later
Tortoise and the hare
Rhythmic routines and standup comedy
Can you swim without autotune? This universe of sounds
Will you drown without a kickboard? The waves of beats
Your voice, your key, they’re haute couture
Misplaced Spartan discipline over lack of filial piety Totsuka Yacht Reform School
SoundCloud rap
I don’t understand English…
SoundCloud rap
Ahh… it means nothing
Soundboy? crowd? That’s the level of your rap?
Like audiences jumping up and down to guide vocals
That’s not a performance Shout from your diaphragm
Eyeballs rolling, screaming If that’s all you got, put your mic down
Call yourself pro?
You’re actually getting paid for that?
Do your job you complete amateur
My belt’s black, numero uno!
I know you can’t admit it but I’m a rapper
Anyway you cut it I’m a rapper
Nothing more, nothing less, a rapper
I’m a rapper…
My rap’s not for kids pretending to be adults
It’s for adults with a kid in their hearts
Always blaming the bandwagon fans
Making excuses is underground
Rather than hiding behind a convenient cover
Do what you gotta do, tomorrow’s another show day
Start over from the mic test
You’re hoarse already!
You rip people off with your 10, 15 minutes
Gobbling up the ladies and acting like your music’s real
Slipping more and more. It’s a bad situation
That branding and fashion you worked so hard on
This tacky guy with the sloppy look’s gonna erase your sweet illusions with one verse
my pencil, rhyme & flow
Give me da microphone
Don’t compare me with the that opener
My opening statement
It’s just begun
The road is long
The proof of my existence
Is in my diary
My calling