Numbers On The Hoard

Burn the sage on these corporate waves
They know I'm a sadist, run these rappers grills on a lathe
Catching fades like baseball, I put em in a 7th inning stretcher
Reflex measures are on display
Toe-to-toe with me will get you gray scale
On a white tee with black eyes and blue disposition

Many parched bitches are thirsty for my position
I flow like aquafina, they watch like dinner theater
Through a peep hole and grab the peter
And they still wonder why I like the surface of venus, and getting meaner

No amount of money is purchasing my demeanor
I got demons, fiending for younger souls to scream
I got demons, shit I eat with them
In fact they're the ones that tell me if I need more seasoning
I body rock the biopsy turntable

All cain and no abel, all man and no fable
Panhandlers are looking at my flow for gold
Can't smell me, sniffing through a broken nose
Throat stoic, ho, this is raw prose opium

From open-toed blowdian, honorable mention
Who started to get a name for fucking up all the sessions
And ducking these life lessons all there is, is mic checking
Let me catch my breath for a second...

(Motherfuckers can't rhyme no more, about crime no more)
Shit, they just go to twitter instead and settle scores
Your brain is looking pretty simple on the floor
I'm taking armstrong steps while you're tripping on the chord
I'm stepping over your head, getting over these rappers

Who laying with stale bread in a bed, y'all some vegetables
Doing white girl wishing you were white girls
Rapping with the white girls, dressing like some white girls
Mc's are avril lavigne

And gotta do that miley cyrus just to feel like they're king
I wasn't born with the scepter and ring, I'm a klepto
Pterodactyl with 3rd rail mouth, it's but a dream

You better realize who the illest is
This ain't a game so I ain't fucking with scrimmages
I can assure you I'm real

Flash some paper and I'll start to appear
And my competition wants to appeal
I'm the best kept secret, tell your boys not to keep it