Lyrical Assassin ft. Q* Lyrics

The skills of an emcee is something one should never trifle with

Not only is rap a part of hip hop, it's a lifestyle

An art form so technical and precise

That it's meant to make you think

And for those who are too quick to get offended

It's meant to press your buttons

Press the button to begin

Yeah

The story of my motherfuckin life

Some say I don't look like I can rock the mic

And some wouldn't even think it

But you know what? It's whatever

I'll show y'all motherfuckers what I can do this beat

I'ma rip this fucking beat while I be making records

While you rappers getting cucked on at every eighty seconds

You call yourself a fuckin' emcee but that's a joke

You better take your ass back at home 'fore you think you're smacking hoes

But you be hoe-less, your pockets are full of roaches

I'm dropping dimes out of nowhere like I'm Nikola Jokic

'Cause I'm a broke bitch, tryna' get into showbiz

Filming a porno scene, wondering where the mistletoe is

Regardless if my fuckin' sarcasm was right or wrong

I'm the type to end your career with a microphone

I might've had enough of your shit when I write this song

So I'ma jump you at your own concert, leaving your wife at home

And leaving your ass with nobody to come and miss you

With your boys preoccupied with lube and a bunch of tissues

Spitting rizz to these fuckin' hoes and shit wives

The only time you'll be cumming is when I force you inside

Lyrical assassin, when I be rapping

You're going batshit 'til you're fuckin' blasted, that's it

(If you think you got what it takes, then bring it

Or I'ma flip you off with both of these middle fingers)

I'm a fuckin' madman, when I be rapping

You're going batshit 'til your head is plastered, that's it

(If you think you got what it takes, you're faking

'Cause I could see right through the bullshit that you be sayin')

Uh, 'cause I can see through that bullshit that you be sayin', bro

My nigga got me on this track, so we let it go

Gotta stay dripped up, and I'm talkin' head-to-toe

I don't want your bitch, mane, she a itty-bitty hoe

So just call me crow, but I ain't scared

Uh, I'll bring these niggas to the morgue, pallbearer

Nah, I can't be really be worried 'cause I don't care

Me and Bryce on a track, we finna kill shit

So don't you dare

Even step, boy, what you rep

You better protect ya neck, nigga

'Cause if we come through, we finna slide, boy

Really ride around, tryna' see something die, boy

Uh, so don't you play wit it, we stay wit it

And I gotta make this chicken, ain't no Raising Cane's in it

Ain't no Raising Cane's

When we hop on a track and burst into flames

Lyrical assassin, when I be rapping

You're going batshit 'til you're fuckin' blasted, that's it

(If you think you got what it takes, then bring it

Or I'ma flip you off with both of these middle fingers)

I'm a fuckin' madman, when I be rapping

You're going batshit 'til your head is plastered, that's it

(If you think you got what it takes, you're faking

'Cause I could see right through the bullshit that you be sayin')

Lyrical assassin, when I be rapping

You're going batshit 'til you're fuckin' blasted, that's it

(If you think you got what it takes, then bring it

Or I'ma flip you off with both of these middle fingers)

I'm a fuckin' madman, when I be rapping

You're going batshit 'til your head is plastered, that's it

(If you think you got what it takes, you're faking

'Cause I could see right through the bullshit that you be sayin')