He Sold Out

[Verse 1: Lord Lhus]
Illegal turn my mic up, let me scream on all these fag rappers Backpackers, competition so whack that I ain’t gonna mention any names
Plenty flames hit you battling son
And you a faggot if you pose on the Internet with a gun
You ain’t popping shit but the seeds in your slack dime sack
I climax from sonning rappers, give me my rhymes back
You fucking punks that’s why you caught the bitch vapors. Spit at a hater, chump, this Lord Lhus, I kick flavor
Smash through, ambush your platoon with Snowgoons
Harass crews who spit if they whack then it’s bad news
Fuck a battle, this a war if you’re glorifying the lame scene. Accept the Trojan Horse, then we conquer the mainstream. Bow down or kick rocks, homie you ain’t as hot as me
I’m a god in Hip-Hop, study your whack mythologies
I’m centuries ahead of MC's, write, rhyme in spaceships
I kicked the flow in 80 BC, battle with ancients

[Hook]
He sold out, not me, not me!
Who sold out? Not me, not me!
Smoke dro out? Yes, indeed that’s me
Lord Lhus, fuck the industry!
Punishing MC's

[Verse 2: Lord Lhus]
But I’m not done yet pussy, you cowards pray to the snakes
Sign a five album deal, not getting paid? You getting raped! You think you hustling? The label make you feel like solid gold, But they want half of your publishing and every bit of your soul... Fuck that!!!
I’mma hit platinum with battle raps
Instead of cattle crap inside of a record label contract. Motherfucker you can’t own me; this Lord Lhus
I rep the underground homie, Rob record labels with my cronies
What up!?!?! I get sick with a mic, the flow moves
No room in the venue on stage with Snowgoons. Watch me kill a track, running with savage guerrilla packs
Spit the illest rap, warn the Asians Godzilla’s back
You ain’t fucking with it, faggot This is your reminder Lord Lhus, I’m from South Carolina, come and get it, punk
I destroy you with no remorse saying "Fuck Commercial Rap and prepare for the Trojan Horse"!!!

[Hook]