Attitude Problem

[Verse 1: Psiklone]
We don’t give a flying fuck about fact or fiction
Sleep talk freestyles iller than most these rappers writtens
I laugh at you faggots dissin’ (hahaha)
It only adds fuel to my drive and fire to my ammunition
We represent the future (yeah)
Your bars are conclusive proof that God has a sense of humor
Rather loop up ambulance sirens
Thanks to you, this year my favorite album’s been SILENCE
Refuse to start dumbin’ it down
It must be a bit hard to spit bars with my nuts in your mouth (suck 'em)
You hate the fact we’re charismatic
The world DOES revolve around me, my spinal cords are planet’s axis (yeah)
Psiklone, Possessed, Plazma and Skirmish (what)
We swallow our pride and spit arrogant verses
Your patterns are worthless, lackin’ in purpose
I lost my temper and it never managed to surface

[Hook]
Credit where credit’s due, that’s why we’ve got no respect for you
I’ll do what you attempt to do
Pissed off with Hip Hop from top to bottom
We got an attitude, now you’ve got a problem
We’re the greatest under the skies, so run for your lives
Say we hate but you give us nothing to like
Pissed off with Hip Hop from top to bottom
We’ve got an attitude, and you’ve got a problem

[Verse 2: Skirmish]
I’m on some arrogant shit, all these talentless cliques
Made me add to my list some more rappers to diss
Chattin’ bout you “underachievers”
Braggin’ bout your couple releases but nothin’ was decent
It’s like possessing skills is a thing of the past
There’s an epidemic of wack rappers killin’ the art
You artists are underground, tryna reach for the skies
We started above the clouds at unbelievable heights (for real)
Forked tongue and the eyes of a snake when you smile in my face
Pretend it’s all love while disguising your hate
And you bredders talk tough to inflate your egos
You’re clowns in a freakshow that play the lead role
My clique’s tight and undivided, yelling “fuck the silence!”
‘Cause I’d rather swallow my tongue than bite it
For you, my love and forgiveness doesn’t exist
And so I’ll drown you in the water under the bridge

[Verse 3: Possessed]
No one’s fuckin’ with this, don’t just button your lip
Close it shut with a zip, sew it up with a stitch
I’m that stubborn son of a bitch (haha)
A heart so strong; whenever it beats it ruptures my ribs
It’s the RA sneak-attack, the beast is back (yeah)
I use my imagination, you just repeat the facts (haha)
Yet to meet my match (what)
Had the most quotables in rap before I’d even released a track
Bring death to your life’s work
If we’re both in the same boat, I hope we’re heading for icebergs
Arrogance hittin’ critical mass
Sounds like an Indian Giver gave you the gift of the gab
Hit tracks with the impact of sledgehammers
Spit raps while I piss on the graves of dead rappers
Take a giant sized step backwards
So big-headed when I think about myself my neck fractures

[Hook]

[Verse 4: Copywrite]
Nervous son, only younger dude that these old heads learn from
So tell these hippies; hug a fuckin’ tree while I burn one
Rollin’ phillies, hold my city down now, no doubt
All by myself. C’mon now, Bow Wow don’t count
You liars claim you’re writers, you’re pussy so buckle up chump
Pretend you put the porno on mute, and shut the fuck up
Anywhere in the U.S. it’s like I’m in London. Factual, bitch
Guaranteed I receive pounds after I spit
The bastard, the prince, has you convinced
Through the first line, that I’m the worst kind of fuckin’ rapper there is
He needs three 16’s, and I don’t like him, he’s ass
For the right type of cash and hash, I’ll ghostwrite him some trash
Tell bitches bumps on my dick, ribbed for her pleasure
Then shit in her dresser and dip with her treasure
Time you, stare in my eyes dude.. I might blind you
If I even do adlibs behind you, I’ll outshine you

[Outro: Copywrite]
Yo, Cop, Cop, Copy…Rhyme Asylum!
Leatherface, what up?
Yeah, it’s the U.K. bro, and O.H.I.O
O.D.O.T. in the buildin’, you already know, C
Get that straitjacket ready!