Alive

Chorus:
Hands up (hands up) hands high (hands high), wave them side to side, if hip hop's alive
Hands up (hands up) hands high (hands high), wave them side to side, if hip hop's alive
Hands up (hands up) hands high (hands high), wave them side to side, if hip hop's alive
Hands up (hands up) hands high (hands high), wave them side to side, if hip hop's alive

Verse 1:
It's funny how they don't sweat the technique
They don't know who wrote the quote but test me
My flow is hardcore; neglect the obliques, never!
My side hustle strong; won't get weak
So my music is made to make interests piqued
Giving good mythical mornings; no Rhett Link
Cause I'm so unusual told I'm unique
With legends hidden in my temple til sold no free speech
But my freedom to press records...well press record
To leave you less than bored, impress the norm
And gets the extraordinary, very stressed to form
More hits to best my score
Whatever direction I pick and roll with
I'm throwing your guard off like a low kick
And if you're not focused, you'll for sure whiff
And I'll punish til your soul lift
My caliber made the FGC say "Yo, clip that"
No click clack with gats, but twitch chat
Mention Fortnite and get pimp slapped by Slickback
But say the whole thing
Or get kicked in yo chest we ain't playing no games
No shame in it
Your odds against me rocky, fella; no dame in it
How I'm clowning on your posse; insane with it
They tell me snitches don't fly unlike playing Quidditch
But I'm on a killing spree and I ain't finished
Cause with each bar or measure, I'm leaving burrowed treasure
Like everything I bodied is in a sarcophagus
Though it's preposterous that what's expelled from my esophagus
Is the basis of the love from the four corners of the world and that accomplishment
Put me on top like a pyramid scheme
With legions of fans; you ever hear a myriad scream?
I promise that for a week you won't be hearing a thing
So I won't hear your babbling til you get serious streams, now

Chorus:
Hands up (hands up) hands high (hands high), wave them side to side, if hip hop's alive
Hands up (hands up) hands high (hands high), wave them side to side, if hip hop's alive
Hands up (hands up) hands high (hands high), wave them side to side, if hip hop's alive
Hands up (hands up) hands high (hands high), wave them side to side, if hip hop's alive

Verse 2:
I'm a junkie for syllables, similes
Synchronicity in synergy
With the syntax of a symphony
It's simply soothing even as a soliloquy
Cause in my solitude the servitude
Of my songs tend to center me
My shibboleth, Huzzah, is a celebration of it
Each subject I'm touching is judged with
My with tongue and where to budge it
Since the placement in statements
Change its taken meaning, revealing
My genius or leaving a feeling
Of dumbstruck or punch drunk
Like spiked Koolaid...
You can blame it on the alcohol
Why he's breaking down the wall
Moshing through each pub he crawls
Oh yeah, punchlines that you cherry pick
For your merriment while my train of thought's a locomotive
Wonder where he went
Long as I never run of steam
I'm highly esteemed in the indie game like Gaben from Steam
But repping my Threes for half of my life it's confirmed
Cause I've been Fiyablasta before Usher was letting it burn
And I'm a HE; get the pronoun right
Unless you're talking about the song, I'll slow down aight
Just hit me up I'm checking my DMs
Awaiting your confessions like your girl and your BM
Oh, it's evident I'm the excrement
But it's best if it's said as expletive
Will the rest get it if I suggested it?
I guess the plebs will flip, because I jest and never slip
Investing in stickers that parents spec and skip
Clean spitting until your boy is into oxymorons
Catch me in my B-boy stance; that's just crossing forearms
Silly flows; ridiculous! Millions know arithmetic
But can't equate to what I add to hip hop and can't mimic it
There's no replacement even as an unknown factor
Although they try to compare me to some well known rappers
Logically it'd be childish to limit my tech to others
Cause I write my life experience relating to you then utter

Chorus:
Hands up (hands up) hands high (hands high), wave them side to side, if hip hop's alive
Hands up (hands up) hands high (hands high), wave them side to side, if hip hop's alive
Hands up (hands up) hands high (hands high), wave them side to side, if hip hop's alive
Hands up (hands up) hands high (hands high), wave them side to side, if hip hop's alive

Outro:
Yeah, it's Fiya B and the B is for better than you
I'm shredding your crew, like cheddar not bleu
Cheese louise, yours is imaginary like friends at Foster's
A bunch of impostors, but I rock like lobsters
I'll be 52 and still fiending for new beats to chew
Cause that's just what emcees do
Rapping for days for clapping and praise
After crashing your stage
And at that age, still have them amazed