[Intro]
What up, b**hes?
Yo
It's mothaf**in Dratchface in the house
Check this ol' fly sh** out
Gonna give it to ya Björk stylez
[Verse 1: Dratchface]
My rhymes flow with intention through my ventricles
Essentially a spectacle and mentionably bent to diametrical
Opposition to sh** you're spittin', too legit for quittin'
The women are smitten, fixin' to figure if it will fit in
Relax, I ain't sayin' what you're thinkin'
'Cause if I was, you'd be even more sickened, let that sink in
Bottled lightning, enlightening might be quite frightening
Y'all know I never pick rhymes when they're still ripening
On a grind, rhyming maligned, and I'm sure you're gonna find
Borderline horrifying, physical law defying
Countdown to the final demolition of the vinyl
Cries are primal, in fact, someone make him shut his piehole
I'll shred on your a** so hard, it'll cause calluses
Pause for an*lysis...shoutout to Shabazz Palaces
[Verse 2: Dratchface]
Rapper of the century, but sounds developmentally disabled
Album's meant to be mislabled, but how can he be so hateful?
A staple of Seattle hip-hop and them should be grateful
Like Dead, so check your head if you're not mentally stable
Dratchface not your average Tom, Dick, or Harry
A dignitary drawing fire like in Pictionary
The sh** was scary, barely escaped with my wits about me
If MC's wanna run, they gotta pay the opting out fee
On another level, rhymes flow through my cranium
Lately I've been miserable, but maybe I'm the crazy one
Walk into the stadium, shining like palladium
"Play me some tunes!" they seem to say through all the haze
And when the game's done, I'll use the same thumb I held the mic with
To flick the knife open and make a nice slit in your throat
It's over and done, I won, aight b**h?