Stog got flow
Though his no Jabba or Pro but his close
How I am ‘posed to win? They got me fighting ghosts
Blame Jigga quotes for my European villa goals
Like Agbonlahor sprint and go squeeze it near the post
They need some more like Charles Dickens prose
On a dictaphone, the mask I am breathing from
Got me on my Doctor Victor Von
Hit the ops with a flame, this shit rocks not a thing
Stretch ‘em out, that's your dame
Wink at her she disappear
This what I am known as fantastic for, get it clear
Even your Stan lean with a sympathetic ear
But fuck your lists
I be on my Sistine Chapel shit
Michelangelo taking hammer to marble for The Pope
Behold, your glass chin champ falls to Goliath’s foe
Maniacal mic holder fuck a sabbatical
Been at your throats, since Bram Stoker
Authored Count Dracula
The data shows, numbers don’t hold up
When you factor Stog
Caption GOAT, but say the same for the average Joe
So them compliments backhanded John McEnroe
If anything what the virus shown
These fake rappers never needed masks
They been had them on
But see my platform exposed kids Adidon
I was right there pace-setting in the marathon
But now it’s back to songs
Your Titular bosses ain’t fit for the toxicity
Adrian Vlok and Basson
Apartheid bars, maybe I bore listeners
But I can’t tomorrow, without starting from where a n***a born
Speaking of births, Happy birthday to my first