[Verse 1]
Aye, EMP
Dead poets
Dead poets
Dead poets
You a witness (first hand)
To this fuckin’ vocab that I’m killing
Guarantee my music give ya honey certain type of feelings
It’s the villain
Aimin’, take my shots and then I kill ‘em
Take ‘em out but not to dinner
Bet you’d love it if I did it though (yeah)
Won’t pass the ball this ain’t no motherfuckin’ pick and roll
Get the goal
Sink a bowl
Shawty saying I’m too cold (real?!)
I’m just an old soul floatin’ in cosmos
I rock the mic without a crowd you motherfuckers no show (hahaha)
It’s the nuisance with the dope flow
Boatload of drugs I keep ‘em tucked up in my coat bro
Oh no!
Don’t let him get back on the mic
He only rappin’ just to spite ‘em
Shе like bubbles in her bottlе I like codeine in my sprite
And that’s why you jealous of me couldn’t spit this if you tried
Double time what I see can’t even open up my eyes
You just sound exactly like the playlist on ya fuckin’ Spotify (fuckin’ shit)
Imma do it better than ya even though I’m fried
(Fuckin’ fried dog, I’m fuckin’ fried)
It’s too fuckin’ easy bro
(Fuckin’ fried dog, I’m fuckin’ fried)
I-I gotta find some other shit to do
(Fuckin’ fried)
[Interlude 1: Outtake from Peter Weir’s Dead Poets Society]
We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute
We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race
And the human race is filled with passion

[Verse 2]
(Woo!)
(Aye)
I ain’t fuckin’ around
Well, may-maybe a little bit (hahaha)
This that raw shit (aye)
Biggie fuckin’ kickin’ in the door shit (aye)
Raptor on ya ass ‘cause ya rhymes are prehistoric (prehistoric)
I ripped the fuckin’ page out a history book and tore it (fuckin’ tore it)
If it ain’t about my legacy that shit is fuckin’ borin’ (fuckin’ borin’)
Abhorrent, bitches takin’ pictures like they tourists
She askin’ why I rap, I told her “Babe that ain’t important” (not important)
Because I’ll make some stacks and then I’ll fuck her on the tour bus
That’s my only goal I care about man, fuck recording
It’s fickle
Kids are blowing up they sound like Drake
It’s fuckin dreadful (shut up)
The fact they bigger than me gets
In my fuckin’ head dude
So I keep it grinding like the metal
On that 38. Special
And stay outta my feelings
Like I ain’t got time for dental (no time)
This some shit you can ride to
All you bitches with side dudes
Gonna bump this in ya car
Fender bender to vibe to (aye)
Nah I ain’t gonna fight you
Pussy cunts don’t want rhyme feuds (aye)
Imma pave my way to stars
You wait for idols to pipe you (aye)
Motherfucker
Woo!
Shit bruh
[Interlude 2: Outtake from Peter Weir’s Dead Poets Society]
Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits
And necessary to sustain life
But poetry, beauty, romance, love
These are what we stay alive for

[Verse 3]
Dogs are with me, hounds
Out the pound, on the down low (down low)
Used to smoke an ounce
Sit around, and do no’ne bro (nothin’ bro)
That’s just what it was
Had to get up off that couch though (couch though)
Flip my Ls to dubs
Put in earplugs for the loud smoke
Aye
I could turn ya track into a crown jewel (real)
Second I jump on it, now you finally got a crowd ooo (hahaha)
Man don’t fuckin’ blow it like my ex did to like ten dudes (fuckin’ whore)
That’s some shit I ain’t mention and bet she fuckin’ won’t too (nah)
Aye
That’s some sick shit, I’m just having fun with it
Know some homies keep it loading like a game from ‘96
One trick pony, raps are phoney
Go make some more fuckin’ drill
Fuck my homies, staying lonely
They only hit me for pills (for real)
Or some weed they know I’m smoking
Go find a plug and get off my dick
Motherfucker, real shit
[Outro]
Aye
Fuck ‘em