Sum Up

This is not a math equation -

I'm here to leave you blood baked, earthquaked, and covered in abrasions.

I'm a demon in this shit - sold my soul for a bit to see if I'd crit and become

a hard hitter.

This taste is kinda bitter - Shitty rappers flood the game only caring about

the cheddar.

Better call Chester the Cheetah because your raps are fucking cheesy

You're not hard because you sip syrup, steal beats from Macklemore

and straight take lines out from under Wheezy.

It's straight sleazy - To see the unoriginality inside ninety-nine point five

percent of spitter's in this shit, it's enough to make a mother fucker quit.

But I don't, but I won't.

I'm the pesticide that lives inside your brain inside the cocoon inside

a shell inside the excuse inside your mouth -

And when you speak, your words are nothing but weak.

You try and creek to cause a racquet, your threats hold nothin to back it.

Instead you're drowning in a sea of your belittled testimonies begging me

and pleading me to drag you up and out -

Of the pain, sky's full of bloody rain.

I'm the messenger of Kingdom Come, my word can't be undone.

This intro is just the start, I'll cook you crispy like a burnt my Pop-Tart

My name is Sigma, I'm summin' it up here for ya.