I was sitting in Maths the other day and i decided to have a write.
Got a go get it impression of this poetic profession.
Hope you get the lesson, cuz you know I flow direct for the session.
Then evolve into a multicultural, single higher species.
Above these rappers with mouths like cannons that fire feces.
And bring shame, to our hobby, our culture.
While record execs lobby as a cloud of vultures.
Looking for scraps of slackers that I didn’t devour.
Great rappers and great people smitten with power.
Image consultants’ tryna enhance vintage impulses.
But this aint quiditch so why you tryna enter the scrimmage of soldiers.
And make or break an MC and leave the man fake.
Mixing and matching concepts. Bitch we aren’t lamb steak.
Let us be how we wanna be, rap how we wanna rap.
But these masses are like seals in the sea and now they’re gonna clap.
And a true fan deserves a true idol.
But what was the best twenty years ago is the new vital.