BUILDING BLUEPRINT

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My lyrics ain't insider's, you need to Outlook me
Even inside her you can't eat out pussy
You dont rap much to be crowned on top of the rest
I am his badluck but not the cloud on top of his head
Flashback, you were writing wack rhymes thinking your hard
Now your ass is back and you still can't write lyrics with bars
Even by accident I'll still be attracting a bitch like a magnet
I'm hazardous these bars are cracking his lips and snapping his chapstick
I've been spitting flames, I went and boiled the heat
Your the shit that remains sitting in my toilet seat
Dam you bitch I've been reading every bar, but when can you diss?
My bars ain't some annual shit, but they'll leave you mentally scared in a ambulance.
I'm never bored of this life I'm writing from morning to night
I'm fucken roaring to bight I'm not finished until I'm too torn up to fight
I spit until I'm empty, but forgot this clock was ticking
I'm not finishing until this baby Mc has stopped his kicking
My ass is beat I'm down, suffering gas leak
But if you ask me, I'll drown and still spit up my last peek

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A blueprint is like a report card for your lyrics. It contains a lyrical breakdown and analysis of all the words, syllables, and rhymes in your song.