No Room

Kenny Diaz ft. Pyramindz ft. Paragraphics and Reddawn - “No Room”
[Emcee(s): K-Strong (of Paragraphics), Matrix, Son of Spock (AKA Jedi Bateria), and Oblivent]
[Producer(s): Kenny Diaz]

[Verse 1: K-Strong (of Paragraphics)]
Personificate lyrical styles, articulate
Subtract from the fake, feeble minds disintegrate
Dialate, D’s possess my state of mind in a metropolis
Rotten as hell, verbs connect, niggas is watching us
Tune in on your frequency modulation.  I write
Rhymes with admiration, precise accusations, facing
The galaxy, mental incarceration, nasty
My disposition’s like sanitation, won’t have
You waiting. By now, you know my occupation, and fuck
Commercial-ass raps that get played on stations. I’m sub-
-terrain, niggas, y’all can’t dig me with a shovel. You could
Front on airplay, but, yo, I still blow your bubble, tap
Your cabbage with the mathematics, lyrics disasterous, mind
Causes catastrophe, niggas don’t want no part of me
I’m never ordinary rhyme, it’s something like potassium
We burst the diaphragm, my speech is ill—no need for asking him
Ill as this in your respiratory. In this vicinity
Intellectuality collides with polarity
To make a man in me, slowly losing my sanity
Or can it be that niggas ain’t ready for the potencies?

[Verse 2: Matrix]
I’m totally opposite from you same-sucker cyclones
Artificial legacies, you don’t impress me
I refuse to be your customer, and I’m not gonna buy
Your shit for a half-a-second, you’re a half-assed discount
You amount out to no cents. You tried to add tax
But that’s just additional nonsense. Kill the act
Get in conscious, face the facts: you, your concepts in raps
Are purchased, but your shit still ain’t worth it
I possess unlimited percentages, so you
Sons of rejects have respect for your elders
I’m the advanced adult, you’re the simpleton sibling
With no identity, yo, meaning mimicking is what you’re
Portraying, so before you raise your voice to me
Think not once but twice and change your choices, see?
There’s no room for those who can’t move a crowd
(Aha, hit ‘em one time, go in)

[Hook: Matrix]
There’s no room for those who can’t move a crowd. I knock
‘Em down ‘cause I ain’t proud with what they stand for
I give ‘em all I got, yet they still want more
Fuck these niggas who want more (Paragraphics, Reddawn, and Pyramindz, what?)
There’s no room for those who can’t move a crowd. I knock
‘Em down ‘cause I ain’t proud with what they stand for
I give ‘em all I got, yet they still want more
These niggas want… (Pyramindz, Paragraphics)

[Verse 3: Son of Spock (AKA Jedi Bateria)]
All you
Rappers accuse actors of talking shit and acting more
Dramatic than violins alone with your pianolist pulling
Your strings, but this ill lyricist Pyramind kid will end this
Fiction music and abuse your mental like kids at carnival
My books is scriptures, articles, pages that ancient, and chapters
Soon, lyrics add up into novels, which explains aspects
Some flee, most concepts all in experience
Which must be a conspiracy that you emcees wanna go against me
But giving me too much information, so you’re aiding your enemy
This wise man don’t brag or boast about his plans. I just scan
To reach mankind, but their lyrics and language sort of
Similar to cavemen who are uncivilized. I minimize
Information similar to your wages. I got more patience than a
Christian waiting for the Pope’s arrival. I’m liable
To any access with a mic over my head like it’s Bible
My title is R-E-double-D-A-W-N
You couldn’t dodge the fifth apocalypse with lyrics
As bullets that sever, I’m coming in all angles
Counterclockwise and chronological order

[Verse 4: Oblivent]
You play that sideline from tipoff to halftime or
Sit as a spectator, hoping to see celebrities
Comedians and other types of entertainers, hoping to build
Popularity fast from fans just off an autograph, but you
Work with a half-assed staff who had you approach coke. I wrote
With the first-class. You have a nowhere career and wish you were near
An atmosphere, overpopulated star neighborhood
Censors are coming for Hollywood, your high hopes subpoenaed, B-roll
In a double feature, but you oughta been cast as an extra to stand in a crowd
[?] no footprints or stars on a Hollywood walk
Also, no late-night shows ‘til twelve. From Hall of Fame to Hall of Shame
And now you punch clocks to buy shirt, socks, stuffy shirts
Spliff and sack in that hatch to your occupation of every day cleaning crock
And I assume you’re a costume in a room of moppers—yo, props
I know you’re not waiting for applause. Get those drawers ‘cause you know what you
Are now and what you’re gonna be later: nothing but a gelatin
And imitator, so find yourself soon and we can do lunch. After I murk
Yo, crunch and munch-munch, come bunch and pounded when ground into
Beef, punk. Packages contain your address from 90210
So no one needs to know I’m coming after you on Punk-Ass Avenue, wherever
At night, it don’t matter the weather, so I’m telling you
To get and keep your motherfucking act together (Get ‘em out of here)

[Hook: Matrix]
There’s no room for those who can’t move a crowd. I knock
‘Em down ‘cause I ain’t proud with what they stand for
I give ‘em all I got, yet they still want more
There’s no room, there’s no room
There’s no room for those who can’t move a crowd. I knock
‘Em down ‘cause I ain’t proud with what they stand for
I give ‘em all I got, yet they still want more
There’s no room, there’s no room
There’s no room for those who can’t move a crowd. I knock
‘Em down ‘cause I ain’t proud with what they stand for (Get ‘em out of here)
I give ‘em all I got, yet they still want more
There’s no room, there’s no room

[Outro: Matrix]
There’s no room. Pyramindz, Paragraphics, Reddawn