The cure

Ey yo, be advised that I just need a pen and a pad to write on

To visualize this opportunity for which I've been waiting a lifelong

It's not just the fact that I write songs

But the one that I don't care if you hate 'cause I don't really like y'all

I'm already bigger than most of you will ever be

Even though everyone would always blame everything that went wrong on me

I'm just a real MC

Not the fake adjustable motherfucker y'all expect me to be

When I spit incredibly, it's like personified credibility

I been through more shit than most of you can imagine

I especially spit for those who can, call it the "fucked by life" Squadron

This is personal, and since authenticity isn't purchaseable

I think you have no choice but to ignore or follow me

I'm in my first year, still headed for a big deal

Maybe not like LeBron, 'cause I'm a little overlooked

Still I'm winning, writing my own history book

I'm not telling stories, which make up about 90% of your so called "historty", look

You don't need to be a crook to stand your ground

And shut those up who are constantly running their mouths

It's like a superpower, I crush petty cowards

You have to understand I ain't the type of guy giving away flowers

You don't really want no parts of me or my crew

I don't have to shoot, still lyrical bullets will soon be flying at you

By now you should know how I do

 

 

You're 'bout to witness

The personified cure for a worldwide sickness

Though I'm ill when I spit this

 

 

I ain't just comming out with a "fuck everything" attitude

I'm not pretending anything, like most of today's rappers do

I'm ahead of you, listen

Rappers don't need an image, they don't need to be rnb singing

They don't necessarily need to be coke flinging

As long as they keep it real, I'm down with them

I've been sent to fix the game, at least what's left fixable

You gotta get yours, but I gotta get mine

Your false claims of crime can't do shit against my smoking nine

And I should really get fined

The fucking way I cuss even makes therapist of tourette syndrome blush

I'm really feeling it, speed it up, no rush

I ain't got time for these clowns though

They ain't that tough though

And if they wanna start a war I'ma lyrically bust yo

Fucking corps on the floor

And leave you shattered with more metal than the whole marine corps

If you question if I'm man enough

And we get tangled up

I'll prove you're pretty much hand able

I jump whole offensive lines

Like I'm Cam Chancellor

I'm not sorry if I offended you

And motherfuckers wanna see me suspended

I send it all way back, plain English now

I'm talking bout your head

To me it looks like a punching ball

I'm verbally punching y'all

Straight outa rap's dungeon

My syllable amount makes you believe I don't have a fucking guilty conscious

I'm the twin brother of Grady

Who shot his cheating wife after being encouraged by shady

And Dre; those people made me

Safe to say, maybe doesn't existing

In my world, it's either pleasurable or hurts

Still ain't serial killing for fucking Parfum

My songs are harmful to those I dislike

But I guide those who feel me

And this rap shit is healing so many underlying pain

Mixed with the stuff that goes through my brain everyday

Not only painting a picture, but also manufacturing a frame

To cut a long story short,

On a beat I'm insane

 

 

You're 'bout to witness

The personified cure for a worldwide sickness

Though I'm ill when I spit this