K.A.A.N. raps about his acceptance of the fact that his preferred style of rapping (fast, aggressive and lyrical) has not been as popular as what is typically considered “good” rap today.
While he is disappointed that his style has not provided him with major success, he does not ask for any pity a...
[Intro]
Kaan! Kaan!
[Verse]
'Nother psychotic episode, I need my medication
Hyperventilating, 'bout to have a panic attack in public
Discussing this with the publicist while I'm meditating
All I spit is heat, so is this room properly ventilated?
I'm killing your high the way that I murder a track, I never relax
You feel like you fucking with me and my flow, but you isn't my nigga that shit is a rap
Supplying a relevant fact, I'm taking that beat and not giving it back
I'm putting that right in your face just to reverse the verse I'm rehearsing
Disperse a curse, that's a MRSA for certain, I've been conversing
Confirming your inadvertent conversion within this version
Coercion and my persuasive perversion was a diversion
Assured it while I'm emerging, concerning my insecurities
I even said that last line insecurely
That's the second time that I wrote to this the potent is pouring out of my pores 'til the potion become proportionate force an abortion that’s purer than porcelain fortune abortion
I found within an assortment of force for fornication facilitating
A formulation of duress in a compilation
Predicted the proclamation, perfect my mental projectable
Vitamin for the fighters, injectable, not digestible
Address the microphone with the tone of any professional
Impressed with impeccable lines, every time, it's incredible
My rhyme's highly respectable, penetrating the posher
You pompous imposter, que pasa papa? I did it proper
While eating penne and pasta, call the doctor, I'm obliterating
While reiterating this honest pronunciation
Of reciprocation, the eloquation within my innovation
You should hasten all that replication, this is elevation
Like an application, I need to see your credentials
Massage a pen and my pencil, get loose on an instrumental
With sentimental, incidental, the sound was more intrusive
Wasn't conducive, I'll be the one never losing, coming at me with a lude, and never confuse it
I wanted to set the fuse, and given the realest of muse, never to be able to use it
There was no way to refuse it, given the voice said that it uses
But when I wanted 'em all in a piece in that vision I see when I see when I step on a beat that I'm making
I'm breaking, I'm giving them all I can say
But I do understand that the music is fake, created itself in order to relate
They love it or hate it, the minute we make it, we putting it out for the people to take it, and never would lead you astray?
A talent that I might display? We give it a round of applause
I said I'm trying to make the motherfucking world rise
With the rhymes that I comprise, the lyrics synchronize
The song compartmentalize, now watch it photosynthesize
Still in that state of infancy, I'm not looking for empathy
Why the fuck would you envy me? Empty the automatic for enemies at the embassy
Emphasizing the motion created within the energy
Enterprising my mind to the single pace to infinity
Venturing to divinity
Da Vinci with the vision, delivered with ill intention
But if you don't pay attention, I'm placing you in detention
Without an honorable mention, your ranks are filled with dissension, my bars are filled with dimensions
Demented like it's dementia descending upon defenders
For pinning a pawn dependent depicted within this sentence
I'm a mild man, a pacifist, massacring the masochists
Murdering, blasting the masses off to massive amounts
They'd probably give a better effort if they knew what really counts
But if you keep it real and build, then you'll put bills in your accounts
I'm not a mathematician — this written arithmetic
So I'mma teach you algebra, dumb it down for you simpletons
If (y = mx + me), then I must be
An MC that's obscene in my scene, but must see
I haven't even touched on the square roots of my averages
The 3.14 pi divided with savages
This ain't a dead democracy, my flow's totalitarian
Battling with barbarians, buried them barely breathin'
While coughing, wheezing with heathens, I'm digging ditches and heaving
Dirt over my left shoulder, you introduce a Jehovah
Suppose a foe that's in front of me started running and stumbling
Mumbling something out of his lips till I slit his wrist
And I tied him up to a cross and I started off with incisions
Insisting on silence for this crucifixion
The victim was tortured for hours, scorched by a blowtorch till the toes are burned to a fricassee
And now I'm carving all of the flesh, what's left of it's crispily
I'm vividly visualizing my victory
I'm pushing the vascular vein down to the main artery
The smell of death induces vomiting, I'm violent with a bayonet
Filleted his fingertips to get rid of the evidence
I'm pulling out his canines, molars, and bicuspids
While following in the footsteps of all of my fucking idols
From Jack the Ripper to John Wayne Gacy and Jeffrey Dahmer
The Black Dahlia killer and even the Cleveland Butcher
Who take a subject and slice it with a surgical precision
Even though I'm only kidding, I've lost faith in the music
And every song that I hear is amusing, it's so confusing
You would rather have a nigga acting like a buffoon
Give him a clown costume with the floppy shoes and the red nose
And don't forget the diamond chain to go with his expensive clothes
Perpetuating an image that no one can afford
Ain't you motherfuckers sick of that unoriginal ignorance?
I pick the microphone up and give you something that's different
Just open up your ears when I appear and start listening
It's Kaan
[Outro]
I shall leave you as you left me
As you left her!
Alone for all eternity, at the center of a dead planet
Buried alive… buried alive…
Kaan! Kaan!