Flow

I see you quit the talk, so I guess that the race has already begun
So I’m moving forward with a mic in my hand and a breath in my lungs
You got margin bars, I call it empty space, so one last time get the fuck outta my face
You got no chance to be in the first place, when you’re stepping on the track I’m already setting the pace

Hold up, did I make you look?
You Hear the bass from the track in the bays and brooks
I Spit the constant verbs and I erase the hooks
So when it comes to rhyming I made the book
A verbal assassin I’m swerving and crashing
Assertively merking, disturbing your faction
My cursive reverts into bursts full of passion
Dispersed into hearses for verses I’m smashing

Uh, So, I came for the win
Rain with a pen, gonna make you fade in the wind
If you wanna repeat it then I’ll arrange it again
All you motherfuckers care about is fame and a Benz
All that cash is a means to an end
But it won’t mean shit when you’re needing a friend
Fortune dies like your legacy will
You better make it worth it, cuz I came with skill

(Whoo)

Make the seconds worth it
When I pay for beats I never waste a purchase
If you doubted my skill for being suburban
Take a look at my tracks they’ll make you certain
Spark with an art impart a raw pain
With a verse so gold my words’ll form chains
Sweating straight lines my pores are cocaine
When I get up on the record I distort and r-r-rotate