[Verse 1: Logic]
Lyrically I murder you quicker than Lamborghini drive-bys
Who knew one man could handle more beef than five guys
I’m a motherfucking lyricist, bitches they fearin’ this
Back in the day they wasn’t hearin’ this, now I’m the one who’s steering this
I’m self-driven, will he kill it? – That’s a lyrical given
New school style but the 90’s is where my lyrics livin’
My flow is like another Earth
Second nature I disintegrate ya’, migrate ya’, then lightsaber decapitate ya’
In the beginning they said it was fabricated, as soon as the numbers escalated
But these fuckers just mad that I made it
More chains then when a slave trader, check it
I’m under MC’s skin like muscle tissue, what’s the issue?
If you talkin’ shit then Im’a hit you
Grab a pistol then whip you, then dip you in lava, ain’t no one ‘liver
Second I arrive I murder it, no you never heard of it
So sick my lyrics I don’t spit – I regurgitate em’
As listeners chronologically study my words, verbatim
Assassinate em’, the second I raid em’ like five-0
We pull off the heist and flee to Cabo now
I mask emotions like a robbery, cause when it comes to matters of the heart
Women will clog your arteries
Rattpack, V’s up – Visionary

[Verse 2: Mikkey Halsted]
See the truth through the eyes of the childen that’s born in poverty
Where their chances of breaking that cycle is like the lottery
Not about black and white – you’re rich or you’re poor
So the poor trying to get rich till they stiff in the morgue
I’m the embodiment of ‘real’, I body niggers with skill
If I up it Ima’ bust it, somebody bout’ to get killed
Smoke em’ like Black and Milds, bringing lyrics back in style
These suckers don’t want to battle, they ducking like Pacquiao
8 blocks of bodies, I’m ahead by a mile
Sucker thought he could rap, I fuck up n***a’s morale
I got the clarity of Jay, the complexity of Nas, Lines like Big L, I go against all odds
Like Pac did, I pop shit with the best of them
They got to much estrogen to F’ with him
Ima’ changa like the nephilim
I flood the market till there’s no more left of them like the days of Noah
I split the brick and dip my blade in coka
Take a sniff and see there’s nothing doper
This Coke-eighty shit, they soft as baby shit, pussy as chocha
They better deuce before the whole world smell the aroma
Listen, I want it all, Charlie I’m born to ball
Im the machine-gun preacher and this is my alter call... Bang!
Im the machine-gun preacher and this is my alter call... Bang!