[Verse 1]
This rhyme's coming to you over state lines
Providing chronicles that ain't mine
But I'm contextual when telling stories through grapevines
Same time, they clutching pearls hearing my livestream
Feeling like fuck the world but I guess it might be a pipe dream
On the road to success, and I'm sightseeing might need an amateur rapper to put in my snipe beam
Likely, you're falling off like it's leprosy
Expect to see me in hindsight that ain't right and will never be
Specially cause I'm set to be next to the legends
The rest rapper from gen-z Spectre be
Giving simple Simon rhyming MC a rectal hysterectomy
Longevity, wonder how long they check for me
My legacy, won't be the guy that do the voices
Sounds to me, like if rated you'd do rejoices
Can't reform them

[Verse 2]
If you rappers are here to stay
Best take off your boots and check in
Finna step in the game and threaten them with this weapon
Had the jooks to pose
A question: "How he spit the cold fire?"
The treasure's mired when surgical assessments leave perspectives expired
Open the chest and he get his fix
The road to destiny is devastated by the devil's bricks
Know that ima face it head on like a treble space
On my momma's couch bumping reggae playlists
Fibbing if I said I was raised around hip-hop
Just started listening and mixing last year, now I'm a master here
The rap prodigy, natural-born author
Split like NAFTA when he passed the blower and shot ya
Now, who's the real cops, killers, and klan's-men
When n***as in the hoods got their own hoods in shambles
Strange knaves, you can't reform them