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Who're are the top ten artists? Shit, there's nobody now. And if there is, and they're truly a king of this, then show me the crown!




The fuck? This is a rest stop.
Shitting on rappers. Diligent, that uh... militant cat, willing to scrap ya.
Swing with the syllables while they're still in the rafters
dodging the strong concussion of thought, which won't save them from feeling this rapture.
It's too ill with it, they're willing to ask the...
question of if... the messages kicked fit with the rest of his tiff.
I'm explicit. You questionable midgets mention a distance?
I punt ya, no perpetual limit. I'm guessing you in it.
The pendulum swings at the fence of your district... so look at me like,
"I guess he means business", no innuendo for this shit, it's real life..
You feel hyped? Then call me out.
Show em' what it's all about. Apart of a chain, like Walton's House.
You all are the same, saw your routes. I can't follow the lame
Hollowed-in, bottle of fame. Alcohol for your fuel, while you wallow in pain.
Take the next tab. You fakes address that
you're weak to me. I'm out on your drive way, finding your PCP.
You're whacked out of your mind, that's why you're speaking free.
But you'll pay for your words, and cash out once you see the fee.
I hate you funny bums. No strings attached to it..
accurate as fuck, came back to this. Like Maxwell Cassettes,
no iPod or Tablets, bitch. Back to the compacted Discs
of the late 90's, classes with 10 dollars for a mix...
of Classic Hits...yeah, that was the hassle, its...
not the same. The new revolution rots my brain, like a Zombie slaying...
Out of body, can't get with the songs they're playing...
Now, it's all about... Rihanna and Lady Gaga's making headlines in Paparazzi pages!
The new general Natzi races of copies, chasing
the media through the lobby makes this hobby take its spot, embracing
thoughts erased from the hottest stations Hip Hop's encased in.
FUCK!!!
They need to retire from this theme, the desire
to scream at these liars is like a host of files, I'm looking for my Mediafire...
Jesus, the higher they put that echelon, is like I see a Messiah
So I want to leave the game for good, like Malik from The Wire
But it keeps dragging me back like, "Gee, I need that".
Constant feed back for the keys rapped.
Holding it down, like a Baptism when there's no one around.
Showing the child, no mercy in the lake
telling him: "You're going to drown".
Who're are the top ten artists? Shit, there's nobody now.
And if there is, and they're truly a king of this, then show me the crown!
Ha. Nothing there, you're fronting, queer.
You suckers swear you're at the Bay, I'm a Buccaneer... with new stuff to tear.
Out you're fucking rear!
Believe me, I'm crazy.
It's like the planted the seeds of Shady with me, as a Baby.
Then left me to grieve where I wouldn't been seen, till the 80's...
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