[Verse 1]
Iconoclasmic magic Nalyd Ecitsuj who is that It just sounds like a f*ggot
How could I battle all these ratchets with nothing but a ratchet and a crescent wrench
Trying to choke out a b**h with a maggot for a turnaquet
Tables is turned again
Five mixtapes in watch me churn it then turn around and hate on it and burn it
But hell, Satan will wear a sweater before I get rich from this sh**; best believe I've earned it
I'm concerning these rappers best be learnin' or getting they wheels in they head a turning
Spits out the axel
I hear em cackle I'm the new slave the background noise is the sound of my shackles
I was raised in the era when
If you don't plug your mixtape over and over again til' people wanna take a bobby pin and hand it to their friend so they can plug they eyeballs with it
Eyelids; talking bout the cordeas