A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #



Rates 1
Time to tell these c*nts
Show these c*nts what I got
They been waiting

[Verse 1: Rates]

I know I can show my skill
Grow as the moment builds
Leap hurdles and leave crop circles in an open field
I f*cking know it's real
Leave the scene just devastated
Them definitely hesitant, don't reckon I'm the next to make it
Destined to put pen to paper and make it ageless
Whether I'm famous or not, amazing with the pages
Just a little mention of Rates, it can make the Devil awake
You tremble it's so terrible even heaven's afraid
Step on ya grave, summon your ghost, bring you back to life
Just to punch you in the face to show you that my raps are tight
Attack in the night
Back when I was packing the pipe
Should've seen me laughing, drinking blood as I'm having a fight
Trapped in my mind
Satisfaction I happened to find
Factory abattoir killing getting cash for crimes
f*ck what the doctor said
Not stopping I'm off my meds
If you cracks don't think you're crazy
Then you c*nts are off your head

[Hook: Rates] x2

I'm making my own sound
My own rhythms I own now
My hometown is so proud
I know because my flow is so ferocious I could throw down
No I wouldn't joke around
My lyrics rip ya throat out
Ain't something that ya know about

[Verse 2: Rates]

On stage I can slay rappers as I'm wearing a straight jacket
Wasted after taking 8 tablets from the same packet
You wanted skill, I can kill it and fill it in several ways
Definitely selling a recipe to take your breath away
I reckon the stress is setting levels to get 'em afraid
They're pressing play and they're standing back and they're swept away
I bet these rappers wet their pants whenever they menstruate
I bet it takes a lot of biting, writing every sentence made
My raps insane, I was trapped in a grave
Locked in a coffin, in a box
No oxygen, I was baffled in pain
They had to trap me away
Yep, I had 'em afraid
Rapping attacking lyrics victims that I have to say
I'm a demon like a mean beast that you have to slay
The heroin that's calling your name making you stab your veins
UF, attacking with a style that's just ruthless
A beautiful, brutal musical tune
Tighten the nooses

[Hook] x2

[Verse 3: Rates]

Your b*tch is a fiend with the glass pipe lickin' it clean
I'm going off topic, no I'm not you thinkin' she's keen
This music is a dirty b*tch
She's about 36
Been around some dirty di*ks
Squirting, j*rking all the hits
All the other up and comers
Can't compete with tougher brothers
Have you seen us work the crowd?
We're knowing that they f*cking love us
Hate the industry I'm in and I'm hating undercover
Rappers full of sl*ts and faggots, somehow they all f*ck each other
And what they spawn is a dawn of an embarrassing day
Rates is going back in a cave and Azza's ashamed
It's more annoying then a lad saying "Just having a paint"
The same little fags you used to harass on the back of the train
And now every little c*nt they think that they're bad as
When it comes to throwing a f*cking punch they're as sad as
Miraculously knocked out and yeah I'm back wrapped in Glad-Wrap
And ill rip ya wax sketches and lyrics you had in ya backpack
Death, I'm not scared of it
More scared of my debt
But when they're there to collect man I'm taking their hands and their heads
Demanding respect with this style I've created
A doctor of words, Dr. Rates abbreviated
For f*ck sake, when will the hate in my brain be alleviated?
Just me, I believe that me and my team we'd be the greatest
Delete the fakers need to leave it at that
Smoke weed 'till I collapse, nah the scene ain't competing with that

[Hook] x2

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

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