[Intro] [Apathy talking]:
Apathy. Yo Big Mike man, these dudes are rapping more p**y by the second. All this talk about gwap gotta stop. Y'all ain't got none anyway
[Verse]:
You know your boy Ap sick spit more flows and raps
Than hoes got tats on they tits and lower backs
Y'all are phoney criminals
That feel they so real, less cases than the end of Deal Or No Deal
I'ma earn my stripes when I work with Mike
So this verse I write can make the Earth ignite
Got a gun made special so led can spray three ways
And 187 the Feds who raid DJs
Ap's your boy but I'm viewed as the man
Me and Mike do it big but we huge in Japan
Not Yakuza but the crews think Apathy's gangsta
Get the doe, blow the show with my Japanese geishas
See the tattoo on my arm when I slap you with my palm
I'll kidnap you and your mom and attach you to a bomb
When I rap they say I'm radical but rapping don't do it
I can clap you in the clavicle to cla**ical music
A fanatical Nautica addict back in '94
Putting bodies in the ground as deep as a dinosaur
Globe trotter, make your flow stop quicker than heart failure
Cause fans think I'm awesome from Austin to Australia
My rep grows bigger, how you rep is repetative
There's a rapper more connected in Connecticut
Negative
I'm one of the best fill up my lungs in my chest
And mutter under my breath like my tongue is possessed
Miles underneath the Earth, I can call Hell home
So it doesn't even roam when I'm on cell phones
Keep the crucifix close to you
When I spit it's a quotable
Rock my Uptowns once, all my kicks are disposable
I could quickly dispose of you
Get a bomb to explode in you
I be standing right over you
What the f** am I supposed to do?
The quicker picker upper
Pick your burner up quicker
I murder quicker than a click cause my all my verses are sicker
The sickest I can pick you off with a pistol in my peripheral
Riff with you over a b**h and I bring out the b**h in you
Blow you to bits, a pink mist mostly invisible
Kinda like that movie, an eagle can make me invincible
I rap like a ritual, getting rich by the syllable
Bungee jump out the womb and cut my own umbilical
Billions of flows composed, I be k**ing my foes
You got a new style?
sh** I got a million of those