Rashad & Confidence - Pen On Display lyrics

[Hook] What you hearing is a taste of my pen on display Another ill banger that we recommend that you play Got them ready to say 'the kid is nice, it ain't a question' Ready the next to blow in this here rap profession [Verse 1] This year we're here to snatch crowns from all you wack clowns Make rappers back down, they hear the click clack blow And I ain't talking about pulling burners out I'd rather go bar for bar cause I prefer the verbal murder route Heard 'em shout how they want the realness and it shows Cause when we on stage the people filling by the rows Just to hear this n***a spray and deliver flows Uplifting poems written in instrumentals with pretty tones NY city zone, used to reside in the place they called Biggies home Where the filthy sinners roam, now I'm in a different zone Writing on the daily trying to be the next king to occupy an empty throne Rappers heard the name a lot, so the envy's has grown Now they wanna see me go and be buried from the empty chrome Cause I got a more feel like leaving their pens alone I'm only here to pose legitimate treats To these newcomers as well as the industry vets What you hear is nothing less than penmanship at its best Leaving critics very impressed once my pen is finessed Something golden era-es but still future's ahead Verbal marksman leaving pages wounded with lead And still murk cats who'd rather pack rugers instead Used to chase women now I'm out pursuing this bread Making sure the fam is good and the crew could get fed Shining right while we all stay suited in dreads Walking the streets looking like well-groomed celebs This is a rap epidemic that's soon to be spread Resistent to all clinical solutions and meds You heard Rashad is the truth, that's what the rumors were ledged But the proof was seen in the ma**es moving their heads On every corner of every town where my music extends Gotta tour cities and collect numerous ends With coupe sale from CD's you bootleg for your friends Doing overtime with the rhymes abusing these pens Making music for lost souls consumed in their sins Like a urban prophet clowed in kofis and Timbs I drop j**els that are praised higher than rubies and gems Block futile attempts from emcees who want me out the game Ask the people who's nice and hear the crowd shout my name Built a bigger rep from always reciting countless flames And increasing body counts of rappers from the amounts I've slained You sould records, but what good is your house and chain When your legacy is an artist that's shrowered in shame? I got the urge to devour you lames In the same mouth where my lyrical powers were made Hip hop is the life blood that moves around in my veins It didn't happen over night, I spent hours and days Tried to craft the perfect sound so the album is praised What's the result? Who knows, maybe counting some change Or updating the wardrobe with some outfits and frames The view of the blue sky is trough as I lounge in the rage Keep corwards afraid from these poetical works Pencil a verse to make governments issue terror alerts Since I hit the rap scene it's like the gym was a nerve Distant from birth the rhymes to the d**h With nothing but a beat tape plus a mic being left in my hearse [Hook]