lirik lagu casual - he still think he rap god
[verse 1]
i had a gold mic, fa my whole life
and felt a rapper really need to be the bold type
i gotta cold right, but i’m a south paw
with a mouth of raw that gotta overbite!
crush any rhymer. see me mama? got the flow of 20 rhymers, and kinds problem? beef? 20 piranhas, henny, remy and plenty of lammas
he with the goddess, but this ain’t about his ciabattas
kemetic magician done got in his head
cause greek gods come from egypt like herodotus said
heavy as f-ck
smebin an ebony truck
not rich, but i never need bucks
whenever he ready he better repent or regret that he said ready to bust!!
ya whole career you on some
devilish sh-t
so if i let you claim rapgod; heaven will split
malevolent intelligent witty
big city committee president. bailing with that elegant clique
sadiddy spittery!!
inhaling a splif
entailing a myth
and selling’em what i’m compelling’em with
benevolent heaven sent reverend ever since i was rebelling with del and a plus
i’m rapgod, i hover over your tabernacle
them battle raps should have sat’em back on yo adams apple
or had’em scr-pped, he wayyy out of his habitat too
white canvas, black ink’em. let’em have a tattoo!-
ya sinking slowly, 10 fathoms from the bottom champ
blood rising in the water
like da bubbles in the lava lamp!!
[hook]
in the beginning they called me rapgod. everything i drop you know it slap hard. the studio in the chapel got a trap door. “you slide in that, ain’t know coming back dogg!”
i lithographed my life on two basalt slabs
you smoking asphalt gr-ss off a bath salt blast!!!
this emotional p-ssy-whipped poet know i’m not a liar cause/
you ain’t spit fire since nic took mariah
“giver back boy”! she with a black boy
hat to the back with a gat, boyyyyyy
them sissy bars; like the back rest on a fatboy
i carry a cannon like askenanzi paparazi
stop and watch him, they lion on him, not versace
i’m firing on him..
and it calls for panic y’all!
not the one you wanta hand the ball-neanderthal!
kicking back, i got the sandals off in panama
lookin hard as h-llish; with benard cazelles on
i don’t play it modest i just stay the hardest!
why your favorite artist always wanta play r-t-rded?
well
i’ll whip out a style
that with flip out the crowd
and den?
i’m would get fouls and wild
and rip out his vowels!
and den?
take a quick bow and smile
and den?
carve out his tongue
and den?
starve out his young..
preserve his nerves and brains in this jar that i brung!
in the beginning they called me rapgod. everything i drop you know it slap hard whoes the real rap god whose the wack fraud
no rapture, ain’t know coming back dogg
i’m reading off a scroll while your
bleed on the guillotine
a carthaginian k!lla, phoenician; philistine
spark the semi fa skrilla, i’m beasting, guerrilla main
stilla swing the easton
villa in the philippines
bill fold in-a-ma-nil-la fold-er ill-rap real-cold and-i’m-still-a-soldier
said “make a style that will break him down then
take a bow” know i’m kneeling over!
thank you thank you thanks you, thanks zima!
the blue bemer thinga sn-tch ya queen fatimah
now ya chick rub my j-z on her face; neutrogena
(pause)you not #rapgod; you a stupid demon
i leave your group or team; leaking like f-kushima
a gruesome team of emcees but i don’t need my f-cking crew
i’ll knock you out and wash your mouth out with a hooka cleaner
claim the son of rapgod and i won’t abuse my child
listen biggie use to use my style
homie this ain’t 8 mile!
now everybody feeling the rhymes the real #rapgod out rap that fraud
now where you at?
could have done it in a minutes time
when he begin his rhyme, i’m at the finish line
i been a splitter with a trigger happy rapid fire repertoire
ask ya chick, since the early nineties
in the beginning the called me rapgod
yeah rapgod that’s me. i’m the divine manifestation, the supreme incarnation. there are other rapgod’s but i’m #rapgod. and they know that from the bay to the bricks
young zee, what it do fam?
smoking wax daps in a black cab
at a t-ttie bar; with a fat tab, (or)
in a sh-tty car, with a pretty broad
with a fat -ss
on mac lab
and the rat; in the back; with the sack; interact with the cat
on twitter and she tweeting;
“how you call yourself a rapgod; and not antic-p-te the backlash?”
in the beginning the called me rapgod. everything i drop you know it slap hard. now you studio looking like a scr-p yard
now you are about to be bared up, every bar that you thought up
i’m deified. in my past life, i believe that i died as a martyr –
you’ll get baptized in rap water
by protestant nuns who hold guns like blackwater;
bigger than shaq daughter
i’m in the back;the black part of the rap charter
rap-god harder than all y’all
check the #hastag
i’m in my crash pad having a flashback of when you didn’t write rhymes on a trash bag
i gotta smash that cause i’m the #rapgod you try to sn-tch that, better give it back dog!
i got the cherubim bring out the seraphim you can’t prepare for them better beware of them i bring the nephilim and then the rephaim when i rock my thing, with the best of them-
and i’m you nemesis, about to finish this kid off
spit giant sentences, genesis 6:4
fallen angel my parliament calling terrible
rapping to the trumpets that toppled the walls of jericho
the real #rapgod album on bandcamp
with alot of my other sh-t
i slaughter and smother sh-t
you got a cash stack but that fast rap
useless like hairs on an -ss crack
i’m abusively intrusive and you confusing me with music
i moves elusively, your lil fans are now my fans
here is something you can’t understand!
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