Aka Clive Burrows - Dyametro lyrics

[Intro] [Spectre] The uncool rap a**a**in The dude's back in action Thinking bout life, tryna pursue something lasting Who's bouta gas him When he proves he's the master When he starts to rap faster, in your view it's disaster My words hit like steel blades Don't feel great Can't school me Like field days, being real pays [Clive Burrows] Being real pays, till you get a little fame and some money Now these b**hes acting funny Now these n***as acting funny f** you want from me, n***a? Coming from the dungeon, n***a, aka where yer hoes dragged Close doored and now the who*es trapped f** rap Just a distraction from gun capping these Hoes, I'm pimp slapping, they jocking Ticking tocking and stopping the watch frozen The flow going I'm showboating Ill stop tho And let specs fill it like on mixes of olden, now go [Spectre] With the best flow Let the rest know That this kids boutta be up next though When I slide on the beat, like home plate You probably drive with your feet, you're the stone age I'm the future You need a boost up You can't be on my level, speak of the devil Eating these beats, now they seeking to settle All disputes, saw a fool, bought a stool You might wanna sit down when I'm taunting you, it's hard to do [Clive Burrows] Heard that n***a specs? Dare a n***a f**ing step To the best, get wrecked, with finesse From the blessed vocals From dem frederick locals More exactly the secret circle Murking these circle jerkers, till they dripping purple Putting worthless slags in hearses, perfect verses Coming from the 7th, flight, from heaven I'll arrive at 9 divide it by 11 Main objectives of my algorithms Vocal prisms, smug and potent chillin Smoking on some ronald roaches Call it audio-toking, im blowing and k**in [Spectre] Thought he was joking, I was serious as Mona Lisa Gonna teach ya, phone a preacher Talking with God My words over your head, you toss 'em aside Call myself an author with pride Assault and get robbed Lyrically I'm a coffin that's wide Throwing salt in your eyes, I'm adult in the size Of my cerebral cortex, ain't seen the Source yet My rhymes got 'em slipping, I believe the floors wet