The opening track to the anticipated sequel to Jonwayne’s Rap Album series, giving it yet again the minimalist title of Rap Album Two. This is also the second single to the album with “Out of Sight” being the lead single all released post-hiatus.
This is a more braggadocios song in contrast to most...
[Verse 1]
You never seen a man so calm in your life
They afraid of this mic
And I got the type of mind to grind into that white light
I rock the mic inside the china shop and spit that bull shit, this ain't no bullshit
It's eating past after the stomach full shit
No eating ass, no groceries, I ate at restaurants
They serve me well since I'm a baby of the Kant renaissance
You may recall my marvelous reconnaissance
I never forget, like elephants on 4chan
Remember I'm a poor man, but got a fucking kingdom up in here
Where the beer flows like me, and seeded without a peer
See I had it up to here, all these doubters in my ear
Tryna tell me I don't have the whole world up on my spear (what you do?)
I Van Gogh 'em, pretend I don't know 'em
Too busy showboatin' to roast 'em, the flames floatin'
No jokes, see my quotes remain potent
Even in the casket, I'll be one to close it
I'm a poet and I know it, see I could do some good
But these demons in my ear make me feel misunderstood
Lord knows, my intentions are hood
And I rub it in a little bit more than I should
But what would you do if you were great and you knew it?
I put up a page, I get in my range
I open up a vein and let a river run through it
You call it music
(that's close enough)
[Hook]
Ah, one two-'til my voice is hoarse
Ah, one two-'til my voice is hoarse
Ah, one two-'til my voice is hoarse
Guaranteed to rock, rock, rock the mic
Ah, one two-'til my voice is hoarse
Ah, one two-'til my voice is hoarse
Ah, one two-'til my voice is hoarse
Then take a pause
[Verse 2]
I get my dinner on from intercom psalms and scratch an itching inner palm
Give a Ted Talk about shitting on 'em and spitting on and on
They wonder what arithmetic I'm riffing on
They wonder what this written on
"since when he get his Merv Griffin on?"
I wonder who I'm pissing off
Bump missives in the whip, run crystals for the glisten
Dump Cristal down the sink up in the kitchen
I run missiles in my whistler
Children for my pisser
When these women call me Mr. J
Know I came to slay like a gay man
Shade like a Ray Ban, you know I'm here to stay
You can find me 'round the way like a waistband
Writing 'bout my stay on some 'how to be a man when you hate man'
L.A., the home of human spray tan
Heard it from the grapevine in that gray van
With many a gray band
I give a damn on some frankly my dear
Whoever made me had some great ideas
My parents built me, yeah I'm straight IKEA
Had this voice to God since I was five feet uh
Drinking wine, eating divine pita
Kissing that cross, now they kissing my crosshairs
When I rap on beats that sound like a video game boss lair—shit
In my pauses I hear Ric Flair trippin'
Yeah my quips could carry trips like some big bear visions
Yeah these words are so sharp I give some thin air stitches
Got a hole in space-time where I state my business
[Hook]
Ah, one two-'til my voice is hoarse
Ah, one two-'til my voice is hoarse
Ah, one two-'til my voice is hoarse
Guaranteed to rock, rock, rock the mic
Ah, one two-'til my voice is hoarse
Ah, one two-'til my voice is hoarse
Ah, one two-'til my voice is hoarse
Then take a pause, and you know, of course