J. Cole
The New Chapter
[Verse 1: Mastamiind]
The way I'm taking a classic, flip it backwards
Reverse gymnastics, is the tactic, I light the match
Torch my flow, ignite the flame, and the metal I deserve
Is like Olympic fame, in the game, off the chain
Where the pit bull stays, can't tame a lion tamer
My pen is the numero uno, unorthodox as I take a step
Back, and kick it like judo, praise the Wu Tang, wack n***as
I burrow, lyrically I'm a A-bomb that went off in the
Pentagon, my songs need a Renaissance, and a priest
Inside a synagogue, horn of a unicorn to stab through anyone
Top puppy, but the flow cold, and it's messy, like it's chilly dog
And it runs and kills, like a velociraptor when alarms went off
Scar on my arm, to show you, this game is descriptive
I've always spit off the dome, when I write it's script less
Fans of new and old Wu, wanna hear this and they
Hate on it, but I'm paying homage, so fuck em
I'm sicker than cat vomit, the game has a score
High, like the violin's strings went off course
I stomp on the floor, like bulls, I plead, please don't mess
With the horns, like it's brass, I blow the shotgun
At the passenger, and write down "come out and play"
Like I'm bout to murder the messenger, squeeze
The Desert Eagle, squawks at you, for it's evil
The world turns demanding another sequel
To my classic, this is too much of God writing
Brings havoc, near the nearest faggot
Who thinks he can rap better than me, it's factual action

[Verse 2: Mastamiind]
The Anubis of rap, take it back to Grand Master Flash
The furious, that can take five wack rappers to trash
Mane, forget Gucci, the snake can hang itself with
It's own rope, lone goat, horns still stick out who knows
I'm hard headed like I stuck my skull, in a wet cement yo
Let's go, hold the throne, it's bout to go on a ride
I stop hanging out with weirdo's cause I'm bout my demise
I won't die, I'm silent to these moths, like the
"Silence of the Lambs" poster, this is hip hop
I don't need to kick rocks, I just need to spit fire
Off tops, like burnt Jiffy Pop, no love for cops
Even though, I got a chick that goes ham with the head
Like it had pig feet on the side, I let my last album sync in
This just sound like one, blow the smoke like clear fog
I'm known to have a iron lung, nobody has followed as
Captain, I give punishment, in this tournament
It's only torn, when I hang these rappers by they chains
Like an ornament, I'm more of an arson
Than a rapper, the beef ends when I burn ya grill
The mind still ticking to bomb the game
With uni bomber skills, an anomaly, to turn a mosh pit
To a pool of electric eels, and the realest one, to build my
Empire, with some knights in armor shields
Defeating foes without the Midas of gold, hoes
Need no clout, to be strained with the fame
Through thick and thin with bread
So let me cut you more than a damn grain, god dang