It's the full-fledged miscreant
Indiscriminate k**er
Standing among constituents, sorcerers, and witchers
Anytime I step on the mic I'm hosting a mixer
For each bar is a celebration
I'll never rest
Till I'm a fixture in the game. I'm no ordinary mister
I wipe any man and his whoadies out of the picture
They claim to have stacks, move tracks and pull pistols
All I have are the flows
But if they're used correctly
I can still make your homies and distant relatives miss ya
Miss the misdirected young man alone on the street
In favor of the younger man who'd rather try to succeed
They see the ma**es flock together and don't know what to think
Then I remember
We're up against more than the kitchen sink
We're encouraged to use the bigger man as a model
We needed the Fendi shoes of the materialistic few
...And then we all get played
Like Saturday evening Boggle
Partaking in a game even a child could win
And standing at the podium flashing that ribbon-winning grin
I'm back-stroking in my new timbs
I had to bump my head a couple times
I was diving in the shallow end
Cowering in fear of the hate
Looking for ways to fall in line
Blend in and save face
Started writing in the third grade, rappin by the eighth
And by the ninth inning in
I'm still gunning for home plate
Stole a base or two, had to break a face or two
I serve flows on a platter, every now I had to bake a fool
But it's all love. I find the domestic birds of my youth
Out for my blood and
I turn em to flocks of doves
Every time I grab my Bic pen
And commence with the spittin
My only two earthly pleasures are my art and my writtens
As they become vices I can make a couple tracks
So hot you need to carry the ca**ette with two mittens
That's middle name, hands
First name, these
Last name Bees
Suffix title Knees
They turn their noses up at the diction and mastery
But they gonna eat my words. That's the breakfast of champines
I contemplate upon my journey thus far
It's a long way, but I'm still aiming among the stars
The patterns and constellations fill the sky with haste
So I point my head to the North
Hold a conversation with God
You can take away my love
She wasn't a ride or die
You can take away my father, you needed him in the sky
...You can show me heartbreak in every given
Form, shape, context or space
But you'll never see me cry
Lil Kydd