Smoke

I pull from the waist then my mic through your face
I was spotted in space, challenging light to a race
When my CD drops, my fans cut right to the chase
Too hype to remove the plastic, they just bite through the case
The horrible smoke, you don’t want no part of that revoke
So beyond dope that I could give a heart attack a stroke
My house is a boat full of magic artifacts that float
My starter pack consists of a full almanac of quotes
It’s incumbent of me to cause something to bleed
I keep two hundred and three different mics under my sleeve
Some wonder indeed why I have zero number of seeds
‘Cause I’m yet to find an equally twisted woman to breed
The mic supremist, adjective and noun extremist
Me falling off just means that I would slip down to genius
Among the greatest who did it I’m listed
You wouldn’t make the top five if only you and four other rappers existed
Boy, I got that smoke, I got that smoke
You ready for ‘em to hang, then I got that rope
Bring it down, young fella, you are not that dope
Don’t make me reach my hand way back and chop that throat
Boy, I got that smoke, I got that smoke
You ready for ‘em to hang, then I got that rope
Bring it down, young fella, you are not that dope
Don’t make me reach my hand way back and chop that throat
He’s chasing me really quickly but never will he get me
Piss me off, I’ll put your child in timeout until he’s 50
On the war trail, I compose and stack more mail
Lyrical crossover so nasty the backboard fell
I’m tight clutching the mic but still subject to fight
Plus I murdered pressure right after it busted the pipe
My position’s locked in and I stand with it
I wasn’t passing you the torch, I was tryna burn your hand with it
I write words for the love that start purging for blood
If you lose, you gotta take a nap submerged in a tub
I was bad but now I think worse
I had a staring contest with a man on a picture and the picture blinked first
I don’t have to talk when I’m full of hateful aggression
I’ll cuss your whole family out with a facial expression
Snatch your life before you snatch mine
When you expire, I’ll sneak in the hospital and sign my name on your flat line
Boy, I got that smoke, I got that smoke
You ready for ‘em to hang, then I got that rope
Bring it down, young fella, you are not that dope
Don’t make me reach my hand way back and chop that throat
Boy, I got that smoke, I got that smoke
You ready for ‘em to hang, then I got that rope
Bring it down, young fella, you are not that dope
Don’t make me reach my hand way back and chop that throat
When a pen is around, my acumen drops down
Leave your head swole, big as the jack in the box clown
I’m under the understanding you planning to reprimand me
Backhand you and knock your bloodline to a whole different family
I’m fast and cunning, so much life-force blasting from me
I took CPR and resuscitated the practice dummy
Rap armageddon, K is not the one to threaten
Started wrecking and made it so hot that the Sun was sweating
If I stay in front of your house, you’ll never come out again
My standard’s so high I gave myself a one out of ten
It’s all about the win, follow me closely
If you lose, you a loser, we don’t give out no participation trophies
I wanted to get amnesia so I self-induced it
To get the feel of the first time hearing my music
Make every enemy resign with SPC on his mind
I’m so precise the clocks and watches look at me for the time
Boy, I got that smoke, I got that smoke
You ready for ‘em to hang, then I got that rope
Bring it down, young fella, you are not that dope
Don’t make me reach my hand way back and chop that throat
Boy, I got that smoke, I got that smoke
You ready for ‘em to hang, then I got that rope
Bring it down, young fella, you are not that dope
Don’t make me reach my hand way back and chop that throat