My condition in this mic time is scenes with custom motto
|
Pure animal, flammable, no Don King or pre Robing Gibbons
|
No bitches getting my dollar, setting up a trust fund for my daughter
|
Put her through college 'cause she ain't never put through what I was put through
|
I promise, no façade, I'm really a god
|
You fucking frauds oughta really pay homage
|
I sit with revolutionaries, killers, scholars and prophets
|
Build louds with old timers, freedom fighters, iconic
|
I'm a real nigga, fuck it with these hip hop topics
|
Ain't dropped an album yet and I can jet to the Tropics
|
Put that in your gospel, no squad, no bodyguards when I move through the streets
|
A butcher nigga, I rap with my own beef
|
One life, one love, one got a course, I go for dolo
|
Get on superstars, may go for fans to slap bands and take photos
|
And still got my four four, don't make me act, react, attack, clap
|
And black light you off the quota
|
|
You on point, homie?
|
All the time, homie
|
Is you on point, dog?
|
All the time, dog
|
Is you on point, nigga?
|
All the time, nigga
|
Well then grab the microphone
|
And let your words drip
|
You on point, homie?
|
All the time, homie
|
Is you on point, dog?
|
All the time, dog
|
Is you on point, nigga?
|
All the time, nigga
|
So play the resurrector
|
And give the dead some life
|
|
Boys are bitches, target in my arm, I burn you like Blair witches
|
Niggas swear they hot and they bumping like bad itches
|
Blood baths if you throw me in a batch with whack niggas
|
I'm a murderer, you can send a message through the currier
|
Express angle stress when you dress to be inferior
|
Switching up their top 5, this day is earlier
|
And I'm just having fun eating rappers quite curvier
|
Yes, you can, I bet you can cry me a river
|
Charge it again, fill up on names like plain rivers
|
Snow here where I grew up, rally with my stuff on
|
Worldwide to their eye they calling me the new son
|
Shine on 'em, burn, put their ashes in pine box
|
Six feet deep between Nina and Medlock
|
Always on point, carry, I can handle that
|
Try on Q, dog, I leave how we hitting back
|
Woke up to the light burn a man different orange
|
With your ass up in here you gotta live to be born
|
Just lasers in storms, I'm scarlet digging
|
Just a small draft of what they plan, acidic rap, nigga, yo
|
|
You on point, homie?
|
All the time, homie
|
Is you on point, dog?
|
All the time, dog
|
Is you on point, nigga?
|
All the time, nigga
|
Well then grab the microphone
|
And let your words drip
|
You on point, homie?
|
All the time, homie
|
Is you on point, dog?
|
All the time, dog
|
Is you on point, nigga?
|
All the time, nigga
|
So play the resurrector
|
And give the dead some life
|
|
Nowadays they so mad at success
|
They really they just ruin the whole rap experience
|
Never once considering the fact they lack the fat shit, delirious
|
Delusional, I swear the act is lazy in you
|
Booty eyes rappers with your garbage eyes flooty poop
|
'clowns, stay down, you never understand winning
|
And I don't give a fuck if you was in from the beginning
|
'Cause for real these OGs are old fools
|
And both of you are rapping the latter
|
We outgrow you like palm trees to weeds
|
Say you monster siege, you never break down anyway
|
We put it down any state, any lane
|
'Cause people relate to what's banging
|
Not that I'll solve ass explaining
|
If you go on but you couldn't be moved
|
But since you gone we can only assume the game wasn't for you
|
|
You on point, homie?
|
All the time, homie
|
Is you on point, dog?
|
All the time, dog
|
Is you on point, nigga?
|
All the time, nigga
|
Well then grab the microphone
|
And let your words drip
|
You on point, homie?
|
All the time, homie
|
Is you on point, dog?
|
All the time, dog
|
Is you on point, nigga?
|
All the time, nigga
|
So play the resurrector
|
And give the dead some life
|
|
-----------------
|
The Resurrector
|
| Bishop Lamont |
