The Game

This is a world event, it’s international ya know? Yeah, you are all welcome to Savantism, rap kings Dap Kings!

Verse 1:
What happens when older Iverson
Skill meets Smokey Robinson’s level of jottin’ and
Then study Solomon?
That would be me the immortal and the sovereign
I have been released from the portal to you common men
My god of pen speaks truth none of your idols can
Score the story on the world’s smallest violin
Then post the soundtrack online I might buy it then
Hold up this be the year of my apex
Verbally I create pecs with eight reps
Either you get your umbrella or take a rain check
You throwin’ dollars in the club I make it rain checks
I mess around and buy a horse and throw a grill on it
I’m lyin’ but that would look kinda ill won’t it?
Can you imagine me not writing a masterpiece?
That’s like [?] dazzled teeth on Master P
That’s like low low calories at Applebees
Rebel guy bakin’ devil’s pie have a piece
I be in the record store givin’ dap to kings
Tryna sample things from outta Handel’s themes
Stop gambling I’m the one that Gamble thinks
Would’ve made it in his era if I had to be
See I scare these guys ‘cause them fools barely write
I’m like a black Eminem mixed with Barry White show ya right
N*gga that’s Dolemite
You grew up on it
I ain’t spit on sh*t, I threw up on it
Y’all some conformists, need to run for it
Speed it up tortoise
Who you know can re-chord[?] chords and record it?
After it’s recorded and record it fast dag I hope we caught it
Hahahaha

I’m gon’ shine
One more time said (*police siren sound*)
I’m gon’ shine
Like one more time said (excuse me)
I’m ‘gon shine baby
One more time like (this is the sample police)
I’m ‘gon shine
I’m ‘gon shine, I said
I’m ‘gone shine
Baby one more time and (I didn’t hear any breakbeats in that)
I’m ‘gone shine like
One more time and
I’m ‘gon shine say
I’m ‘gon shine (sir do you have any loops on you right now? hahaha)
I’m ‘gon shine like
One more time uh

Yeah it’s true musicianship, I mean can you hear the chords, the bass? I know you hear them horns, it’s in your face hahahaha, I want y’all to make no mistake, the Dap kings merge with the rap king, we do that thing

Verse 2:
I thought about givin’ up on this but I’m in love with this
So it ain’t over ’til the fat lady does her riffs
Although I must admit the politics is punishment
Label execs betta repent for they ton of sins
Since they are the death of the artist
Michael and Whitney died for this, they the martyrs
This is the harvest
They sow seeds we now reap as recordings
In concordance with Thomas Edison’s portraits
Musicians are tortured forced to go on tours quick
Got it to where people ain’t willin’ to buy songs
It’s very little to vibe on, am I wrong?
I wonder how long will the smoke in mirrors
Cover the truth I guess it takes some broken mirrors
Can you hear us? I was told that there was
A time when the artist song used to be taken serious
Now we await the chariots, to crack the sky open
And bring the music back and if not we die hopin’
But in the meantime I’ma keep my eyes open
I got my eyes open