Mic Packin’

[Verse 1: RYTM]
Ain't nobody readier then RYTM
I'm stacking divisions
I'm that independent
And that got me thinking
To making a mannequin outta the rappers
I haven't forgive em
Sticking a finger up big enough
Flipping em off and I'm backflipping em

I ain't even gotta practise
Pick it up and I bat with it
You gone struggle to figure it out
What is happening
Abra cadabra it's magic
I'm picking up on the gas
Figured I'd replicate the fastest

Packing a mic and I'm bringing it figured the bigger the singer the quicker they toast to RYTM

A stickler, quicker than figaro
Bring in a bear and I bet you
I'm bigger to boast
Sipping the liquor to cope
Biggity biggity whoa
Gimme the drum patterns man
I'm freaking sticking to those

I'mma train into a veteran
Better weapon my pen is
Then penicillin dependents
I'm practising pain and penance
Quicker then making a menace
I'm faking it, taking it
Break an aesthetic
I'm vacating, making a mistake
Ahh forget it

I think they get that
RYTM pretending he's Eddie Brock
Second effect of venom within him
And then he lost it
Apex man, I'm octane, I'm caustic
Coffin a bit of a lung
I'm lunging them into a coffin

Honest problem
Gimme a minute to solve it
If I been a god
Then I'm finna split an apostal
It's the top 5 rappers
And I'm killing them all
So I can head DOWN6
And he gone finish it off
It's like

[Verse 2: DOWN6]
Withdraw your self from the top
Manic fucker finna replace your spot
Blast bitches with a brand new Glock
That is tucked tightly when I roam on the block

Don't nobody wanna enter in
Implicit benefits
Beheading a sucka and now
I'm that mofucka revelling
I'm ready for all
A menacing haul
You finna come fall
I'm creeping slowly with machetes
In the middle of the dark

Spitting from an opposite side
They all got country wide
And then they wanted Six on the mic
So the gravedigger
Really came to snatch your soul
The blackest holes
They falling in without fright

Fall apart and give that
Mothafucka not a reason
Not to ever look at music
When I commit fucking treason
Now my syllables are criminal
Cynical with the pen I tote
The sinner finna send em
To the bottom-of-hell in the moat

Why in the fuck are we packing a mic?
Can we just spit it and show that we tight?
That ain't a diss, when you listen to Six
You can see that my goals are for lyrical strides

Tag team that bitch with The Jackal
Haters ain't laughing, but ready to cackle
If the goats saw the state
Of the mothafuckin' undaground
They'd be laughing and having a jam
They sick of the breaking
And ready for other sounds

[Verse 3: Jackal]
I'm packing a mic
No matter the night
No matter the day (Ay)
I'm packing the mic
No matter the matter of fact
Coz I never play (Ay)
I'm packing a mic
No matter the night
No matter the day (Ay)
I'm packing the mic
No matter the matter of fact
Coz I never play

Achin' when I get up on the mic again
I'm fighting with if I'm gonna people please
And write for them or redefine the meaning of king
By making the manners out of men and amending any (a) blemish
Telling me how to rap like I've never done before (Before)
Maybe you could shut up, and get off your high horse (Yuh)
Choppin' a couple of syllables simply cause he bored (Uh)
Wordplay easy, number one in the world

(Next up!)

Preppin' a couple of bags all with the mic packed I might get silly with it in a minute
Overthinking when I'm picking syllables to fill it with I mix it with a little bit of liaison

(Speed it up!)

Masterful elision catabolic when I break it down
Talking, I reckon I'm bringin' it makin' a mockery at the speed of sound
Wakin' up makin' the bacon I'm breakin' it fast - getting cheddar
Packin' a mic and I'm making a mocha now make it omega the bigger the better