BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
Dress in defeat
- Yo, Juan Quinche, think you hard? You just a front,
- Flexin’ all that fake shit, boy, you ain’t got a stunt.
- Your rhymes weak as hell, man, call 'em paper mache,
- While I’m spittin’ flames hotter than the sun’s light ray.
- You’re the type to fold, claiming thug, but you a bitch,
- In the streets, they laugh, say your game’s just a glitch.
- I’m a beast on this mic, call me the rap assassin,
- While you clutchin’ your pearls, I’m out here steady blastin’.
- I’ll derail your whole career, this ain’t no friendly game,
- You a wannabe thug, I’m the one who brings the pain.
- Tryna rise up in the ranks, but you can’t climb my peak,
- I’m the king of this jungle, you just a lost little geek.
- Step back, little man, I’ll expose you like a truth,
- Got no game, no skill, just a childish goof.
- You thought you could flex? Nah, you slipped on the chance,
- I’m a lyrical monster, while you still do the dance.
- All your bars are nursery rhymes, soft and kinda weak,
- I’m out here killin' beats, you just mumble and squeak.
- Sad little prick, no hustle, fuck your hustle,
- I’ll pull the floor from under, watch you crumble and rustle.
- See me comin’ through, icy cold with the flow,
- While you chatter in the back, you a shadow, you just low.
- Goin' hard in the paint, y’all can’t hang with my heat,
- Juan Quinche, your career’s smellin' stale like defeat.
- I’m armed to the teeth with the rhythm and the heat,
- Your tracks barely move, man, they just shuffle their feet.
- You wanna step to me? Please, you ain’t built for this,
- I’ll end your whole life with just one ruthless diss.
- So, think twice, Juan Quinche, before you step in my lane,
- I’m a hurricane, you just a drizzle in the rain.
- You’re obsolete, washed up, like some old used tissue,
- While I’m out here eatin’ rappers, boy, this beef's official.
- Runnin' circles 'round you, IT ain't no tennis match,
- I’m a savage with the bars, I’ll leave you in a scratch.
- So step back, and show some respect where it’s due,
- Or I’ll school you on this mic ’til you wish you never knew.
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