T.W.I.M.C

The vision 2020, I swear none of these niggas is ready // Don’t hit my line if we ain’t talking about fetty // It ain’t many that do it better, I dare a nigga to try me// They’re debating who’s the greatest, can’t help but think that I might be // The game in limbo, bar low, I had to lift it// I’m gifted, it ain’t box big enough for me to fit in // the bad guy back with a fully loaded gun clip// I guess it’s up to me to remind ‘em who really run shit, look // Label me a villain, it’s fine // poke a sleeping bear be aware that it’ll wake within time // Forget killing ‘em kindness, I’d rather they die horrible death // Every line’s like a needle used to administer meth, yes // That’s pretty sharp ain’t it// Let ‘em tell it and they might say that my image is tainted // All because I kept it real, never been one for the fake shit // Those who say that you changed are same ones that’ll shapeshift // All facts, I see the hate in they eyes // Seen bridges burn from a far as I sever these ties // Kick the chair from beneath and watch ‘em hang from they lies // Been set ablaze, but like a phoenix I rise // Still, fallen ashes from the blunt make it bearable // The boy who cried wolf is really more than a parable // Sat across tables where only fables were spoken // Never the top pick, but I always felt I was chosen // I feel i’m better than ya’ll // Never been a trending topic or the one they applaud // Is it a flaw, i know they wonder he be so fucking confident // Fuck a compliment, I’m focused on goals I’m accomplishing // Told em imma pop my shit, always had a pot to piss // Used to be a optimist, no fucks that I got to give // who the best from the L, I that think I should top the list // But every time they bring the topic up, somehow they rob the Kidd // Rappers in my city don’t inspire me // A few tried, but none could ever retire me// Every effort made has fallen flat on its face // Instead it fuels the fire in these lines that I lace // now say grace, for beats that I dearly departed // Most valuable on the mic, I’m lyrically James Harden // Check the score board, I put up numbers on the daily// With no assist, not one nigga could say that he made me // But it’s a few that started rhyming because of me // I got a couple of apples that have fallen right from the tree // Although they never admit it // I know that deep down inside that they feel it // Been my brothers keeper, but niggas turn you to Nino // I refused to be a Mitch, got rid of all the Rico’s // Circle so small it damn near look like a dot // He ain’t ya mans if he let you bleed alone in own ya spot // Maybe I’m bitter ‘cause I’m owed a bit of paper // Lesson learned, fuck feelings and fuck favors // Pity the fallen, they gone need a helping hand // We no longer relate, refrain from calling me fam // Never dumbing it down in exchange for the poker chips // I blame the fans for hyping the mediocre shit // Someone had say it, got me playing devil’s advocate // Promoters bending over, they love give you they ass to kiss // Find me bumping Pitso Ramakhula // ‘cause ya’ll been whack like that nigga named Duna // Style watered down like mixing milk and Amarula // Only smoking the finest like Kobi or even Kunta