So You Think You Can Rap

Chorus:
They ask, "So you think you can rap?"
I say, "Nah, I know I can emcee."
Making a masterpiece
Whenever my pen grazes a mead
It's official. I showcase in any cypher known
I crush the microphone
So when them phonies ask me
"So you think you can rap?"
I say "Nah, I know I can emcee."
Making a masterpiece
Whenever my pen grazes a mead
It's official. I showcase in any cypher known
I crush the microphone
So when them phonies ask me

Verse 1:
Can I kick it? Yep, just like the unborn
I've sworn to keep you restless till the next morn
Forewarning ya'll who got your ACL's torn
Your Average Copycat Lyrics can't touch me when I perform
'Cause I'm far from the norm
When the Abstract raps, you cats realize that
This Jupiteran be smashing these tracks and eat them like snacks
My appetite can't be satisfied
My rapping tight also gratifies
Your need for greatness that's going places
While your skill's stuck on homeostasis
Homey your statements nothing to bank on
Better be insured by State Farm 'cause I shank songs
When I wreck beats in my wagon, station
Packing the Fiyablasta
Who's stashing a verbal magnum
Attack me then vernacular
Is thrashing your adam's apple

Chorus:
Why ask so you think you can rap
'Cause I know I can emcee
Making a masterpiece
Whenever my pen grazes a mead
It's official. I showcase in any cypher known
I crush the microphone
So why them phonies ask me
So you think you can rap?
'Cause I know I can emcee
Making a masterpiece
Whenever my pen grazes a mead
It's official. I showcase in any cypher known
I crush the microphone
So why them phonies ask me

Verse 2:
Am I good? When I'm an excellent specialist
Impressively setting expectancy for a song's pregnancy
They're always banging them with no discrepancy; it's deafening
'Cause every hit I'm going in, they're screaming loud in ecstasy
It's so orgasmic when I start spazzing a labyrinth
Of fantastic vocal patterns so naturally it's organic
Yet uncontrollable, spasm, and scorching you; it's volcanic
And this habits wreaking havoc, so other rappers can't stand it
Like they're Elmer Fudd and I'm a wascally wabbit
To them, power is one prude girl; they can't tap it
But you can call remote 'cause I have it
Flows that go oh so hard while they're flaccid
My project could go platinum and yours would stay in the plastic
Or getting burned by Fiya; consider this song the matchstick
Time to meet your cremator; tell them no need for caskets
Tyler, the Creator saying, "He's one case of the baskets"
Trashing any biter and writer inciting a fight out of me are defeated indefinitely
I squeeze the L-I-F-E from beats and emcees deceived and thinking I'm weak
Ain't at my peak, but yet I'm elite so why speak off
When I toss your awful pieces in my incinerator
The only time I call you an entertainer
I know I can rap, but it's abstract so you think it's wack
Well I'm Wrecking Horrible Actors, Counterfeit Killers on every track
If you don't get it, then rewind time back
To notice that I "H" you, like my deadliest catch
Threes!