[verse]
I come from the old school version of a bold fool,
too fueled into his rhythem so he can rule you,
his old duels were a cold seniment before the internet had a measurement that it could choke you,

all you had is wits on your side while your pad was at home,
and radical prone to pick bones outta the stoned, some picked bones or came to a match stoned, and it showed,
your crew was like attack of the clones,
Scribble on papyrus during the sacking of rome,

Watchin the republic fall where is Ceaser now?
The Ides of March were looking at him crooked like he'd bottom out,
And that's what happens to your empire to and your crowd,
They gon fade out, cause the winter never plays south,


I ain't gotta time piece so I pocket out,
Clock around life, like I'm looping through a poster child,
I'm not as merciful much as am versitile,
As sugurgical discernable effort of mass servitude,

is serving you, out of a submersible,
so much that you vomit water onto daughter at start cursing food,
Rap was about rhyming fuck with a pen,
Now it's about money, my hunger is starving to death,

Why should I stick around, Picking fouls outta bounds,
outta mouths, tryna feed a swindler acting proud cause they robbed a house,
music now a living doubt
nicki minaj sounds like she stole her voice tryna rob a mouse,

I'm a moving cloud over the industry you could never crown,
but the kings look at me scared like I could a thunder down,
I got a talent as old as the last damage that the passive ass maggots want to bag into the water drowned,


[CHORUS]
I'm still hungry but the world don't love me,
They starving and the waters getting dusty,
end times in the industry it must be,
Walking round handing em a demo like "trust me"

And I may maybe state it all roughly,
Just me standing on my toes isn't something
gotta be a better side to it if I'm lucky
Tryna to feed tha famine in the bones of rap music i'm still running,

[VERSE]

I live in the world, where people gotta pay to perform,
and soon as you shell out the money, then you never were born
You step on a stage, and suddenly reality's warm,
now you down a hundred fifthy by the shiftiest tour,

And it's hard for me to record, perfection isn't a force,
you reckon with while the seconds are slipping outta ya door,
No I don't wanna remorse, when I ain't feeling the core,
now I'm kinda feeling bored, I should head outta store,

It's a war, my boots are waging it implicitly,
the city keeps jipping me and acts keep skipping me,
I'm one step forward then I'm two steps back,
my skills make up while my cool don't last,

twenty four, riding around, looking for encores,
off of a show that I never played like they want more,
In life, it's either man up and or get lost george,
either stand up or go and add you name to the chalk board,