This is straight Hip-Hop
Not a rapper but I hit hard
Hardly spittin' bars
Father where you are
Your son about to be a star
You heard
No word
Could hurt
My thirst
To overcome the brilliance
That is my resilience
Gonna make millions
I am a reptilian
A serpent
Sipping bourbon
Listening to Urban
That's horrible wording
But motherfuckers we learning
The difference of intent and purpose
The context is perfect
The concept is working
To conject the nervous
Young kid inside
Some things don't hide
Some people don't lie
Some things don't die
Ideologies survive
And you know I might just be capable of flight
Uh
Now bring it back to straight Hip-Hop
Where motherfuckers get shot
From Biggie to Pac
There's glocks in stock
Rest in peace Mac Miller
Cause sometimes our own brains are the killers
Looking at the man in the mirror
Downing all this liquor
Mister wisher wishing things were clearer
This wishy washy world disappearing
And we're steering
The boat
So don't denote
The way that I spoke
I'm G.O.A.T
I wrote this so
My flow sounded better than most
Independently
Making melodies
Fundamentally
Incredibly
I don't even consider myself a rapper
Jack of all trades but none I can master