middle finger flood the faces of dissenters
it's all Hip-Hop and games until somebody gets dismembered
limbs tagged, embalmed, and left in the shed
evidence of former challengers, living or dead
let the living limp back to they camps with horror stories
spreading the dread, wetting the bed, depressed and mourning
if you ain't in my org don't even trip about what's up with me
i try to be inclusive but mother fuckers is uppity
spitting that crusty Chuck E. Cheese, Dave & Busters fuckery
you musta known this wasn't a game, 'cause you can't bluff for free
let's test your lucky streak with russian roulette
'cept every chamber is loaded inside that gun at your head
only takes one and you're dead: click-click, BOOM! finished.
spoiler alert: Sixth Sense, Bruce Willis
ain't no one tryna hear you so you talk to yourself
hovering in purgatory 'til you drop into hell
i got a bulletproof flow, and your ammo is nerf
if you really want a war i'll kick the ash out your urn
call my fucking name three times like Beetlejuice
hold your fucking breath, wait, find out what the beast will do
Fredrick Douglass Kruger, nightmare of White AmeriKKKa
write my way to freedom, light-bearer fire a flare at ya
burning, an epistle to signal scIce isn't fair to bums
call homeland security, i'm a microphone terrorist
not a thug, and i don't pretend to be one
i'm the type to cut your chest open so i can eat lungs
i don't need a reason, my cooking's the bomb
i'll split the atom on your block, if you look at me wrong
you heard the hook on this song: keep my name out of that genital massager
that you thought would be proper for rocking mics
i got a rocket launcher that's locking in your demise
use your carcass rot in my garden to fertilize
Sciceberg Pimpin, English is in my stable
i see you tryna trick so peel some bills from off that bankroll
but if you try to rescue you could eat a clip of staples
you can get filed for incineration today yo
i got a bulletproof flow, and your ammo is nerf
if you really want a war i'll kick the ash out your urn
call my fucking name three times like Beetlejuice
hold your fucking breath, wait, find out what the beast will do
K-Matic, your team is straight batshit
for letting you get ratchet with me, dangerous habit
you're like a gig at Walmart, Target practice
walking round alone in the City without an atlas
if he catch you slipping, chloroform, now close your eyes
Dolores Claiborne; when you wake out in the hideout
it puts the lotion on its skin again
or else i hold its mouth open, insert a pound of cinnamon
like, "challenge accepted!" Livestream your death, then
sell the rights to Netflix, whoever placed their bets on
you is a loser that rooted for a jabroni
and bet against the grimiest rhymer, the one and only
Metamari, hazard to your survival
keep the mouth gross, spitting poison at my rivals
every word i write is nerve gas for you to breathe in
hugs for believers, hellfire for the heathens.
credits
from Booster Shots,
released December 28, 2013
Lyrics written and performed by Khemmeta. Produced by Khemmeta and onesevenonenine. Contains a sample of "Wanna Try" by Jimi Swaggart.
Khemmeta's music strives to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves, or are shouted down when they do. His upcoming
EP "When I Get To It" produced by Stephonathan (1/3 of both Pride City Purpose & Chedda Guap Boyz) is silly, nerdy, romantic, anti-nihilistic and defiant. He can't wait for you to get to it this [December]....more
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