The Pumpkin Patch

Hey, what’s up, Thief- How you doing? How you been?
You know I love rocking to your beats, my friend
Although, I figured I would say this- No offense meant
But I made this beat and I’ll proceed to beat it with the pen
Shake it up, shanked and cut, drank the blood
I’m takin the main-stage, they ain’t hanging with us
When making it flood flows, I cold yank the plug
And these lames straight vacate guts caked in mud
Stay tough, tried and true- Face the danger
Y’all wear Versace, but Jarv wears Wranglers
Uhhh, check the style, I’m no stranger
To tearing up the microphone, it’s quite a no-brainer
To me that is- Extremely deviant hedonism
When I get up in ‘em, feed em to the pigs
Really sick- And then I eat the mother-fucking pigs too
Your mother said I was a big dude
Now do you get the pic, dude? I’ll rock your socks, drop your pistol
Or point it at the sky, you’re not stopping this dude
I sift through your mix like sand in my fist
I demand you hand over your jams that exist
Oh, you got none? Aww, what a shame, punk, I’m not done
I’ll end your life, I operate mics like shotguns
Boom- Ahh
Straight to the dome- Now which lady is taking me home?
Making it known now, I’ma go down-
In the history books- Sickening crook, so foul
Never know bounds, feel the bass go blaow
Disturb your heart rate and turn the place out
Say, «wow, he’s amazing, I’d never heard his name
‘Till the day I saw him play and he straight caved the place in
His last name’s Jarvis, his first name’s Nathan
I heard he’s a hermit who lurks in his basement»
Hello, wassup, hey, how ya been?
Run and tell your neighbor Jarv’s at it again
Hello, wassup, hey, how ya' doing?
Step to the kid and get ruined
Hello, wassup, hey, how ya been?
Run and tell your neighbor Jarv’s at it again
Hello, wassup, hey, how ya doin?
Groove to the beat, keep moving
You cannot stop me when I’m rocking non-stop
The boss be tossing flows- Overload, talking at god-speed
I’m flossing- These hoes, they be so sopping
Listening to bomb beats, chilling, sipping some Knob Creek
You won’t see me drinking Mikes Hard Lemonade
Same ol' cliche, Bob say, «turn the page»
You don’t get a feature if I’m not getting paid
Hot; one million eight degrees centigrade
Churn up the butter while I serve up the gold
Turn up the verbal stove, burn up the flow
I like my women hot and I prefer my beer cold
When I burn up the stage even the firm gonna fold
That’s that and nobody can twist me up
Kid, when I spit, your lips will get quickly shut
Punk, you concede defeat immediately when he bust
And you commence then to extend fisticuffs?
But I don’t do that shit, so move back, bitch
Your crew lacks in tactics, who’s that gonna attract?
If you wanna get schooled and you wanna learn something
My advice to you is drop the act and try to have some fun with it
Runt of the litter, son’s a punk spitter
If I say that I don’t dig it, I’m a hater and I’m bitter
Right, well if that’s true, riddle me this
How come every time your set hits, everyone dips?
They be leavin' you- I ain’t saying they got faith
I’m saying they make an exit when you step on stage
‘Cause they don’t don’t wanna hear that bullshit, played out, pissed off,
tough guy persona that you activate
Had to say it- Sorry, it’s the way that I feel
What’s the point of making music if your music isn’t real?
I just wanna have fun, make beats and kick rhymes
And I’ll do it with my own voice, on my own time
Hello, wassup, hey, how ya been?
Run and tell your neighbor Jarv’s at it again
Hello, wassup, hey, how ya' doing?
Step to the kid and get ruined
Hello, wassup, hey, how ya been?
Run and tell your neighbor Jarv’s at it again
Hello, wassup, hey, how ya doin?
Groove to the beat, keep moving
You move left to right
Ready, set, let’s catch wreck tonight
You move front to back
From the club to the pumpkin patch (What?) 2x