(Verse 1)
A 3-year old with a cap-gun in a Starbucks/
Cause more trouble than your raps son, bar none/ Stardom
Is as far gone as actual stars chum/ So go’
head reach your arms up/ But where you are is where you’ll
Start from/ And end cuz this art is as rare a mon-
-ster/ As a hollow Charizard card in a starter/
I’d like to be immortal/ but not a porta-
-ble oracle/ On your ipod coaster holder,
with a Florida flow I’m/ more like fluoride in
your water/ You’ll hear me even when I’m not au-
dible, like the voice of God in my Bible yo/
Show some courtesy/ before I blow this spot like
A fill-in-the-blank for Curtis B. /
I murder every track, you got no kills/
You even gotta bag each body yourself, no frills/
My mind still pregnant, even tho it on mo pills/
Than Octomom on birth control, cause her canal’s so shrill/
Since I’ve been born/ had Superman syndrome/
Though these rhymes been honed/ unknown like Bobby Jindal/
Surrounded by all these prigs, gotta wear a thimble/
N’ to read my lips, you don’t even need a Kindle/
(Hook) (X2)
Say he got bars, like that ain’t enough/
Name every emcee, I don’t give any their due/
Spitting for fun, watch how the merry ensue/
Cause I’m the illest, the illest in my bathroom/
(Verse 2)
I ain’t Big poppa or Diddy/
Was told these streets eat me alive, like tribes in Papua New Guinea/
But I don’t mind/ if you got that new fitty/
Cause I’m a YouTube channel the way, I get Ad em (at’em) with lots of views really/
I’m wishing God would get into it/ like a fishing rod of the Inuit/
Its arbitrary with the bars I carry/ my heart is very/
Calm but always ready like when Hulk starts to wary/
Of holding it all in, its like ah shit! He goes ARGH, its scary! /
Back to square one, nah, I’ll square off, I’m a fighter/ back to
The drawing board, nah, I’m tossing your brush, I’m a writer/
The Secret, I don’t believe in the laws of attraction/
But lines keep coming like my pen was moaning and laughing/
Cause I’m making up my words like it was my cosmetic/
Knock words/ into Oxford’s/ dictionary, cause I meant it! /
Once there was a guy who thought I was too intelligent/
I used the word ‘contrast’ he wondered what the hell that meant/
I’ll show them all the meaning and definition right now/
The difference between me and him, he was (fart noise) and I’m Blaow! /
Hip-hop’s competitive/ you just wanna come pet a tit/
Well lot of man boobs? but nah done with this ish/
The way my bars miss vo-wels (bar mitzvah), they call me the Jew/
We can play any game, but I won’t call it a truce/
When I play tic-tac-toe/ I don’t/ use Xs and
Os/ Oh no!/ I won’t/ Scratch out or run in your circles/
When I play I use dots, cause I get to the point/
When I slaughter these disappointing rap pigs, oink! /
When they call this classic, they ain’t talking about that disk/
But my actual class kid, take it, look like you need some practice/
I would rhyme it with Uranus, but let’s be honest/
Your ass can’t rhyme less it was left in the cold to rime/
But Y’all stare not getting my references so that’s it! /
Break the mirror, challenged myself to this rap ish/
Songwriter and producer CRFT celebrates his spirituality and family on this thoughtful debut LP, featuring Blu, nobigdyl, and more. Bandcamp New & Notable May 10, 2022