Good Looks (2011 MC Showcase)
[Verse]
Yeah
I've been that nobody screaming, "Fuck the mainstream! It's over-hyped!"
Blew up from this battle overnight, now they know I'm nice
Flow is so precise
Wearing gloves when I hold the mic
So my hands don't get frozen by bars colder than polar ice
Fuck you, I love you; bipolar on the track
You see a flash of white before you die, like polar bear attacks
Fuck a, chip on my shoulder, got a boulder on my back
With vocab more addictive than the bogies in your pack
Laying vocals on the track, you can keep the fucking paperwork
They said I wouldn't do it, so I made it work
Slaying verse after verse, press repeat, then rehearse
'Til you hear me playing on the radio on your way to work
Can't let this slip, man, I gotta get it poppin'
Cliché as it may be, failure's never been an option
I'm climbing to the top, and I ain't slowing down or stoppin'
'Til I blow up bigger than the Oklahoma City bombing
I don't think you understand just how much I need this
I wanna be a millionaire; where the fuck is Regis?
If Eminem's a god, then it's only fair I'm Jesus
I've been doing this before I had a hair above my penis
Man, I need this
Twice as savage as the Macho Man
Laying bodies on the beat; I'm the fuckin' Son of Sam
Traveled down the rabbit hole, stumbled on a promised land
Shootin' for the moon; wake me up when the Apollo lands, yeah
And watch me stomp inside a crater
Speaking of Apollo, I'm like Rocky to these haters
Authentic's all I know; being fake's not in my nature
Spittin' bars so hot, they could evaporate a glacier
Yeah, I'm on my Inconvenient Truth shit
Assassinate a rapper on some John Wilkes Booth shit
Who's this new kid spitting fucking ruthless?
Hip-hop's Messiah, better run and tell Judas
Yeah, I could write a track with my eyes closed
Ain't you seen me yet?
You must be wearing fucking blindfolds
Cause I know that my flow is ice-cold
It's got this game by the neck in a fucking vise hold
Yeah, I'm gonna choke it 'til it's snappin'
Got the ball rolling; only time will tell what happens
Got the drive, and I got the style and the talent
I re-invented rap; I should have the fucking patent
But I’mma do this shit my way
Made my own lane ‘cause there was traffic on the highway
Shook the game up, and it landed fucking sideways
But that’s enough; this beat’s giving me a migraine
[Outro]
Calling out Token, Killa Kre, Ben Sommers, and Slim Jesus
Smoke weed
Yeah
I've been that nobody screaming, "Fuck the mainstream! It's over-hyped!"
Blew up from this battle overnight, now they know I'm nice
Flow is so precise
Wearing gloves when I hold the mic
So my hands don't get frozen by bars colder than polar ice
Fuck you, I love you; bipolar on the track
You see a flash of white before you die, like polar bear attacks
Fuck a, chip on my shoulder, got a boulder on my back
With vocab more addictive than the bogies in your pack
Laying vocals on the track, you can keep the fucking paperwork
They said I wouldn't do it, so I made it work
Slaying verse after verse, press repeat, then rehearse
'Til you hear me playing on the radio on your way to work
Can't let this slip, man, I gotta get it poppin'
Cliché as it may be, failure's never been an option
I'm climbing to the top, and I ain't slowing down or stoppin'
'Til I blow up bigger than the Oklahoma City bombing
I don't think you understand just how much I need this
I wanna be a millionaire; where the fuck is Regis?
If Eminem's a god, then it's only fair I'm Jesus
I've been doing this before I had a hair above my penis
Man, I need this
Twice as savage as the Macho Man
Laying bodies on the beat; I'm the fuckin' Son of Sam
Traveled down the rabbit hole, stumbled on a promised land
Shootin' for the moon; wake me up when the Apollo lands, yeah
And watch me stomp inside a crater
Speaking of Apollo, I'm like Rocky to these haters
Authentic's all I know; being fake's not in my nature
Spittin' bars so hot, they could evaporate a glacier
Yeah, I'm on my Inconvenient Truth shit
Assassinate a rapper on some John Wilkes Booth shit
Who's this new kid spitting fucking ruthless?
Hip-hop's Messiah, better run and tell Judas
Yeah, I could write a track with my eyes closed
Ain't you seen me yet?
You must be wearing fucking blindfolds
Cause I know that my flow is ice-cold
It's got this game by the neck in a fucking vise hold
Yeah, I'm gonna choke it 'til it's snappin'
Got the ball rolling; only time will tell what happens
Got the drive, and I got the style and the talent
I re-invented rap; I should have the fucking patent
But I’mma do this shit my way
Made my own lane ‘cause there was traffic on the highway
Shook the game up, and it landed fucking sideways
But that’s enough; this beat’s giving me a migraine
[Outro]
Calling out Token, Killa Kre, Ben Sommers, and Slim Jesus
Smoke weed