OK. Kay Slay. Locksmith Lofty Goals
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Allow me to paraphrase the apparent phase I peddle toward
A space between chasing my dreams and what I'll settle for
Every new tier in my career is more clear
Focus on my core and keep these executives on a tether cord
I said it for a reason mind you
People speculate, but to myself is the only label I'm signed to
And I don’t feel the need to precede, I'm reserved hardly
Do all the work and receive proceeds from a third party?
That’s absurd sorry. I just prefer to be heard, bar me
Rappers sign and disappear commandeer a search party
Search far beyond the farce that you fraudulently falsified
A false guy you fabricatin’ the fate that you toss aside
I assault your pride. Calling the lie like “what’s untrue”
They rappin’ with such uncouth
They bending like hut 1-2
No tellin’ just what some do
We shun artists and praise social media starlets
No judging, I'd probably fuck one too
This is here. This is now. This is how we are viewed
We cop shoes before food cause our values are skewed
We spend bread to get braids it's inbred we've been bred
We've been fed and misled. We duck shots to miss lead
With this said, I'm tryin’ to paint this as clear as possible
Some people are roadblocks I had to steer those obstacles
I will not let it swerve me like the clergy to the flock
Or the distorted plot they try to smear this gospel through
My lyrical and vocal expression has never been questioned. I know what it’s worth
You cannot define or try to confine what is inside or try to pervert
But if it’s this lame I will disclaim with a disdain from a distance
Saying his name and a diss may I would display showing dismay
But on this day, my total intention toting the totem you hold for suspension
I'm engrossed in my own convictions
I know that my foes are stricken with jealousy and contingency
Stalking my timeline, but make sure they never mention me
Lyrically there’s no comparing I
How come you don’t collab more Lock?
In three words: n***as is terrified
I terrorize any rapper on any issue
Fuck a taste-maker, cut off his tongue and tell him to wish you
Rappers use big words but don’t be saying much
To overcompensate for the music they had to rush
Instead of creating ways to convey what they feel as such
They try to over complicate in their lyrics and that’s a crutch
Clutching your notepad you’re so mad that you pretend
So you spit the most far-out shit that you can pen
But when you try to sound smart without substance in your art
You’re just as bad as the swagged out rappers that you condemn
Then, a fan once wrote: “We sick of gimmicks, see?
You gotta be controversial and diss ‘em for empathy”
But if I only become worthy by giving you controversy
Then in reality the only real gimmick is me
I don’t need a sales pitch from some executive with a lisp
Trying to teach me how to tweet or consulting my status
I've been at this thing for so long with practice
I could practically do a show anywhere on the atlas
If you at this n***a better believe that you at risk
Of being physically shunned. I've become what I had dissed
I used to criticize others for lack of lyrical depth
Now I realize there’s more than one way to earn your respect
They say I was slept on. I kept on
I painted the picture you sketched on
I feel like these rappers are so full of gas that they swallowed a glass full of Techron
Respect gone so you hustle for lots of loot
I’d rather be known as unknown than known as a prostitute
Look
Would you rather be a whore or a slave?
Would you rather be ignored or betrayed?
Would you rather be gathered amongst cadavers covered in lime and forced to redefine whatever law you praise?
That’s the promise that they give and expect you to choose
Between the lesser of two evils in the hopes to confuse
The mad sheep while they bathe in they own fecal
Consuming the residue of revenue from the folks they abused
Now let’s define who 'folks' is
Folks is me and you in the lower bracket where most live
That don’t give a shit that morality’s in fatigue
Only imagery created by corporations and showbiz
And whether you know this and focus
Whoever the foe is and fold this
You try to invoke which can never be noticed
So note this and put it in BOLD PRINT
The minute you go vent
They try to establish that you was a savage the minute you try to expose this
If I follow a trend and try to pretend once
I essentially shoot myself for a fee
One thing that I've learned in the last ten months
My only true competition is me
One minute they praise you, next minute they haze you
Either you underground or you a sell-out joke
Cause there’s never been a rapper with my lyrical talent that has proven he can equally balance between both
I revoke any label or category you dealin' with
People need boxes and other people to fill 'em with
Pass me off as one of the other instead of building with
That’s the ignorance that I turn around and kill 'em with
Then I turn around and still em with:
"Word on the street my n***a is that you been a bitch"
You wanna revolution, let’s see
What better place to start with Kay Slay and me?