This is
the end of the end,
so I'll pretend to pen
my heartfelt condolences
But truth be told I've grown immune to what will soon
become just superficial showmanship
These are the times for the
rebels and renegades,
for heavens to be reserved for the
deserving and not the sage
Where writers are celebrated
in favor of entertainers
and freedom of one's expression
ain't threatened by record labels
I'm not the one,
I'm one of a million voices
endangered by radio stations
playing it just for paper
I'm say ing I could decimate the
best of your popular players
with lyrical patents taken
from my imagination
They call me shot rock
cuz I'm hard -knocked
for the alcohol.
So don't forget the dash
I know you cannot call me Stacy
I got space you know you vomit in
commas and commas vomit
you prop it in lowercase
with all my universal state
States when the lights off
and the curtain close.
I'm still here.
No hype just pure dope.
No smoke. No mirrors
I'm still woke,
when the cock crows and the glock blows
I'm still clear,
rhymes sounding like real hope
Third eye stay open like
the lid broke
This is the music of the next generations
Of secular nations
invaded by gods of terrestrial nature
Remove your shoes
and come in peace
Or we'll be forced to use
our weapons of language
As tools of effective intimidation
Oh, and while I'm at
it, I'm adding a tax
to get half of the oxygen wasted
on spaceship bodies occupying
Cause while you suffocated me
for all these years,
I kept my cool and now we're proving
that this ain't a world
for patiently waiting
Now it's time for standing ovation
This revolution in 200 words or less,
behold for revelations
I'm taking out crews
and removing the tattoo in your movement
My roster gon' read
like a who's who in the news, it's abusive
I know I'm a bullet with knives,
I can't go round for round
like a pugilist leaving you
Toothless days ain't stupid, but
You gon' learn a day
for testin' me
without your proof
An d spit it, go poop
before the splatter hit your naked pupil
When the lights off, and the curtain close
I'm still here, no hype, just pure dope
No smoke, no mirrors, I'm still woke
When the cock crows,
and the glock blows
I'm still clear,
rhymes soundin' like real hope
Third eye stay open like the lid
broke
Now you remember the genius
born in December
Sworn to defend the honor
of poets born of a gender
Not to be arrogant,
but I swear I'll repair the game
with just two words until
my opening sentence
I'm hop ing you finish,
I'm stoking your remnants
like smoking with embers
And watching your dreams
decompose in the frickin' cinders
We, the people, hold these truths
to be self -evident
Evidence in the form of letters
strung together into excellence
Now I'm a little cocky,
got a bit of Gavi in me
Got you red, black,
and green with envy,
that's your brother with me
Honestly, I can't help
that I'm kind of this music genre
As long as you understand that I prom
ise to be no trauma victims
So we can call the truth
for all the times
you tried to boost my self -style
And pass it off like you was cut from
Champion Claw
Cause I'm the king of queens
and now that I am crown supreme
I trust that you'll be graceful
and back down,
let's call it honor system
When the lights off and the curtain close
I'm still here, no hype, just pure dope
No smoke, no mir rors,
I'm still woke, woke
When the cock crows,
and the glock blows,
I'm still clear,
rhymes soundin' like the real ho
Third eye stay open like the lid broke
This is the lyrical manifesto
Crafted by the architects
of the rap universe
Remember it well