Lisa’s Spider

Lisa, just hit it with your fucking shoe. It’s just fuckin’ spider, how hard is it to kill a spider? Fine, I’ll do it…

[Verse]
Rappers wanna go model, tryna be fly on the runway
When all their rhyme spray pertains to gunplay
What a contrast! But when it comes to hip-hop, you’re
Living on a plane similar to Big Bopper’s
My plane is existential, fans are still wistful
For back in the days but I run with vagrants by the fistful
And no, we’re not loitering, we are disorderlies
Who make beats and kick rhymes, but most importantly
I’ll spit this like it’s my last day, cause it might be, I might leave
This booth and get hit by a truck on this pathway of life, see
I’m slightly sick but mostly hype, we spoke to Kyle, he
Talked to Al, the boys might smoke tonight, these
Folks are life-living, I’m strife-giving, know knife-shiving
Motherfuckers near Northlands, up by the horse tracks
I implore cats to tour more and help restore rap
But too many feel they don’t wanna test like Rorshach
I can’t work day-to-day to live and starve me in the lunch line
That’s why my shows last longer than a Talib Kweli punchline
But I rap into the next bar like a Talib Kweli punchline
But I make no sense like a Talib Kweli punchline
Cause they don’t pay drinks if they aren’t on the ticket
I started to rip it at O’Byrne’s after talkin’ to chickens
Their men were rookie birdcatchers so they got outta hand
Fuck your girlfriend, man, quit doubtin’ your man
At your show, you’re onstage, playing with your crew
While I’m posted up, sipping a Stella, thinking of lines for you
These local rappers ain’t shit to me, I spit serendipity
Flippin’ the diction, I gel with beats like Doo, Dippity
Who’s dissing me, crews get to be too finicky
Criminally spew venom then choose to use mimicry
I bet it hurts you to see me
On top, jumping on chairs like Roberto Benigni
Life is beautiful, especially when you discern the average
And get above it, by flippin’ samples like a dirty mattress
I convey and use talent to display the true valance
Who’s callous? Is it the kid in the navy New Balance?
You might telling some things to elegant thinkers
Until I run in your house and take your jewels like Zelda’s Link
But it looks like y’all fucked up (Yes, y’all fucked up)
Stumbled up and down stairs, apparently, they run amuck
Punks jump up, it’s the dark star, these car parkers better buckle up
For the kid with the black Pumas and thrift store button-up
Knucklefucks, I chuckle at dumb luck in the business
On instinct, I rush slum tough like I’m crushing the English ‘til it’s broken
Copenhagen, meaning I then mark a target
Leaving progress stopped, spitting sharp darts through the stark darkness
Harking to back in the days, naw, this isn’t a rerun
I’m chilling in a dorm, steady drinkin’ Capri Suns