BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
Untitled Song
- The first person stepping in bursts curse,
- Words perfect, etched into worse verses,
- Each third word flipping with curved purpose,
- Observe serpents slither in blurred circuits
- slicing through motherfucking blurred sermons,
- heard warning, fled when the herd worsened,
- I’m supposed to shine, like a golden shrine,
- With a loaded mind, I decode the signs,
- I'm composed to grind, When I boast it prime
- I’m out for presidents to represent me,
- Bentleys parked where the trenches sent me,
- I’m back slapping rappers like it’s bad practice,
- Sharper than a blade when the math clashes,
- Jesus Christ, thugs in ditches, mass ashes
- playing hands with stacked chances,
- They talking tough, but it just chump change,
- never come strange, in a rough range,
- watch em dip when I bust flames,
- watch me dip, switch the cut lane.
- I’m quick to dismiss you, don’t make me play,
- My aim steady like an AK, let it spray,
- I’m ripping this shit, every bar got a grip to stay,
- Clip in and spit, they don't want me to display,
- I'm flipping the script, yeah, I'm ripping this shit,
- Every line I spit, got 'em tripping, they quit,
- I’m hitting the mix, so precise when I hit,
- You’re missing the tricks, while I’m lifting this fit, I'm built for the blitz, I’m persistent with wit,
- You slipping, I’m slick, never slipping a bit,
- I’m gripping the grip bitch suck a dick
- and fuck a bitch, like a fist full of bricks,
- While you sit in the mist, killing this shit.
- Optimistic and tragic, opposition outrages,
- Twist the blade like orchestration,
- sharp notes on the strings I’m lacing
- Split the bass with force and patience,
- scorch the page with wars I’m facing
- Grip the reins, abort complacence,
- torch the stage, I’m more than greatness.
- Fold the code, I’m known to render flows that leave ‘em blown and splintered
- Scope the lens, I’m focused inward,
- wrote the ends, they spoke in whispers
- Hold the pen, unload the trigger,
- motion sick, I’m oceans thicker
- I know it's cold, though,
- I hold flows that go slow,
- Told ‘em I glow bold, fold
- foes like a gold road show.
- Solo, I roll low, my dough grows
- in the dojo, The flow so froze,
- no joke, no mo watch it grow.
- Glows from the gold coat,
- I stroll slow, then I blow smoke,
- In the cold, I provoke, so
- don’t fold under the no go.
- The tone’s so cold, got em
- hooked like a dope show,
- I’m the pro, you’ll know
- when the whole globe knows.
- The O’s I throw, they go on the low,
- it’s a road show, No pose,
- I’m a ghost with a glow, it’s a flow grow.
- I’m bold, so I show, got ‘em sold
- on the slow flow, Control the zone,
- roll bold with the dough, it’s a snow blow.
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