E.B. - The Pa**age lyrics

[Intro] [Verse 1: Fink] Back to the drawing board, ain't a question I'm re-inspired Reacquainted with the pen, yeah we reunited I create the words, He just realigns 'em He inscribe 'em on the paper, so I read and rhyme em Ha, like Leonidas let me re-remind ya Carry 300 styles for any thieve or tyrant Descended from Hercules, you Xerxes The persian who's yearning to hurt me but can't deter me No mercy, no backing down now Matter fact my raps deserve kowtow I feel I'm the best, I'm thinking out loud So how bout y'all clowns bow down for the crown now I'm surround sound, Dolby digital No identical spittin' writtens flowing this pivotal You're just a broken headphone no one can listen to Unpredictable, unreturnable, unfixable Getting rid of you, the equivalent to a degenerate Inauthentic like Benedict's Connecticut indebtedness Ha, I doubt that you are gonna catch that reference But your intelligence don't write my sentences Im back from temporary leave Needed it as therapy for me I lack my contemporaries speed when I'm writing and recording But their quality will never be on parity with me You ain't nice as the man from McDonogh With the persona of Anakin standing over his son brandishing armor Telling Luke the truth that he's his father In other words i carry force like the jaws of seventy piranhas I'm the Jeffrey Dahmer of rhymers, Bin Laden with the rappin' Came up from out of town, now I'm knocking down Manhattan Flatten, anything that seem to go against the movement You ain't writing my life, no Truman 'Cuz I'm the sole author of the book, but i ain't even bother with a hook I just played the E.B. beat, and was nodding to the problem that he cooked Until the words violently erupt If you do it right, rapping is much harder then it looks But too many don't hesitate They just seem to see the glamorized lives of the artists who succeeded from rap, and then they think that they can replicate it They'll get better if their dedicated But if their focus is on getting famous, then they should eat a bomb and detonate it Get decimated, aptly eradicated A disaster waiting to happen had he actually made it And that could've happened had ma**es actually played it Which result in more wack rappers fastly created So, I'm here to slow the cloning down, it's over now My microphone will show 'em how their vocals supposed to sound The golden poster child with art thats so renowned just like a Pica**o Or a gospel from an apostle an*lyzed inside of a bible Rhymes comprise what I would describe in a novel, autobiographic I'm authoring a cla**ic, and this offering's a pa**age I'm back