I gets busy, these pricks want me hit quickly
Spit sickly, sit swiftly, this Bic splits bricks nifty
It’s killing season, friend, they tryna con my reasoning
Harmless, feeble men ‘bout as potent as Ramen seasoning
I’m the only God you should be believing in
‘Cuz I promise evolution with each creation penned
I cremate CREAM like I don’t need the ends
Leaving plates clean, ‘cuz I’m feeding through my pen
I’ve seen too many faces on a select few
When everyone’s playing a role – except you
But when you’re in the credits, they learn to accept you
If it’s James Lipton recognition, fuck if they respect you
Unless you, think less of the revenue
When it gets the best of you, fuck what your Rev will do
I take the pen, befriend paths opposite of right hands
Fighting sightless minds tryna spite him, my plight’s grin
And I might sin, I’m mighty when that action’s likely
I’m screaming FUCK THE WORLD nightly
Don’t own a gun, ‘cuz I might squeeze
Precisely, type or write these rhymes
Shinin’ light on what I MIGHT mean
So everything’s where it might be, nothing’s concrete
Firebomb streets, Lebanon livin’ with the ledge I’m on
Suicide peak, even at my peak
It’s deep, there ain’t a Halo in my Reach

[Interlude]
Antisocial, tryna leave NO clue
Y’all know the rest, just leave it on the Pro Tools

[Verse 2]
The booth is in a sniper’s scope
It’s likely you will overdose, on a portion of my quotes
I’m writing ‘til I’m lifeless, though
I’m kind of like an isotope, itching for a Homer
Honed to be a shell of former self, became a loner
You could move my words on corner, better yet curbside
Stage mourners when I’m the performer
You haven’t heard why?
Word I’m, the result of maggot metamorphosis
Fly like, Warren Worthington’s recording this
But an opposite occupation
Got the populous probly waitin’
For Pac to pop in and say this:
“I’m still alive, but my memory is so degraded”
Think about it all the time, I just don’t display it
Not on my mind, faggots on facebook hatin’
They heard a couple J Cole songs, now they’re authority
Angers too disorderly, I gotta act accordingly
So here’s a message to those preachin’ for opinions
Run your mouth enough and the meaning goes missing
I got a drama addiction, draw up my conviction
And make sure all castrated critics sit and listen
I’ve had worse fights, they ignore whatever’s more to him
These words ARE life, like this instrumental’s origin
Hoping this the second time it leaves Em breathless
Proof did it first, but now the proof leaves my chest gripped
I fall through intentionally, notice loose floorboards
I live in tension see, cuz the haters can’t afford more
Than me trippin’, I swear they haven’t listened
I wear the Bull on my chest like Scottie Pippen

[Interlude]

Antisocial, tryna leave NO clue
Y’all know the rest, just leave it on the Pro Tools