BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
WHACK RAPPERS (DISS BARS)
- All I see are backpackers, backstabbers, and crack snackers,
- snack crackers, pack a Mac that'll crack ya back, act blacker,
- than the midnight, this kid's tight, I'll shackle you wack rappers,
- too many rhymes are spat haphazard, that's why I back track,
- stacking platinum plaques, that cracker is still too action packed,
- in fact I snack on my prey, half of the game is still back in shacks,
- these jackers lack attack, 'cuz they know that I'm slitting throats,
- I back up rhymes by stacking lines, they jack it like winter coats,
- I'm pinning notes on emcees' rooms, red all on their white walls,
- it's been that way since the game had the name of "Rhyme Song",
- Lucifer's shooting ya, crucified on crucifixes and the awful lot,
- will not spit off the top and get scared, then they wall their block,
- they walk the walk, but never talk the talk like Waka Flocka Flame,
- homage paid, I spit flames at names of the game, dropping names,
- popping lame rappers, I'll hit ya dome with caps, and style's dire,
- 'cuz emcees are not trying, hip hop's dying, that's why I fire,
- shots at folks who have potential but never use it and lack a mental,
- of hard work and success, smoking more grass than wildfire,
- rap was created by the hated people, it was meant to boost ya,
- you can't pay the rent and loose a, friend but invent the future,
- Lord Papi Chulo, better duck and hide, you suck dick in the saddle,
- getting lower than your diss track to K. Brick in the battle,
- I'm raw off the meat rack, have a cow in a beef, I'm going ham,
- 'cuz y'all make about as much sense as a fucking homeless man,
- fuck your rows at fans at your shows and damn that ain't true,
- you dissing everybody on the block rapping who ain't you,
- so come against me bitch and see what all my bars are about,
- and Yung Jay too, bitch stop biting, 'cuz I'm calling you out,
- I already told you that I'm go off the meat rack and I'm bucking,
- because you know I keep my fucking heat packed like an oven,
- so I won't stop 'till I drop and then hip hop's level is back,
- so come and fuck with Lucifer, 'cuz I'm the devil of rap,
- come sever the track bitch
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