Jukebox Mic - Not dope lyrics

INTRO: Catalyst Jealousness. Fellas gettin' envious From justified pretentiousness Evident as ever with, the present bit As it left my lips, plus the ish I have yet to spit. First, I'll let you get your grips Cause I know your stuck, making sense of the tricks Riddled within this transcripts- First lines... Cave mine lines: you gotta search mine For the lyrical gems, as I burn time Play with wordplay. They say I'm word wise Shout out to the first guys, taking part in my learned life And...covering my blind side. We're searching for splurgin' that cheddar Better than the 3 blind mice But I got that 20-20 hindsight A delightful urge to purge Once I'm ripe, in the lime light But that's once the time's right... I think the time's right! Though, my flow, I won't- slow it, cause who needs a chorus? Since I was born, I have sworn: This- life imma hold by the horns, b**h And gorge in enormous portions of gorgeous Rocky Mountain Oysters As a metaphorical award for it... If I keep focus, like four door Ford whips! For the pen is mightier than the sword is I'm gonna live by the pen and die by the rewards That come forward... So, flee fast for the forest, foes; For you've hit a fork in the road Fortifty your fortress, man your forts For ya'll been forewarned... Trauma fiddles to force forgetfullness But forges mental images on simpletons Your memory sticks like a pissed pitbull's grips Via explicate penmanship; me and beats get intimate No kidding, cause I'm impotent Can't f** with me, I'm whiskey dick That'Sound Insight, loud as I, educate the ignorant Like immigrants, I cross the line, between diva raps, and raps divine.. You can't block my shine- so bright, pupils dilate, like Columbine Wait, no, dial 9...1-1. No one, catches my puns, like, half the time… And...I suppose that's why... I'm void, of contracts to sign But you're out of gas, and past your prime You're mind's inside a box, confined, so stop the talk, and act a mime Step on me, and then you'll see, how I can be a land mine But really I'm a rapper who's sicker than slackers, with senioritis Plus spring fever, cancer, AND a clogged sinus Stealing answers, to barely pa** cla** with a D- I'm Saint Paul's right hand man, so they label me the tightest Righteous! Until the day I die, my dialect will be held in high respect So, I will try my best, to make every breath Real ill, till my final rest.. Currently, I am kept Writing for the same minds your idols impress A big break: I haven't found mine yet So ya'll can bet my mind's a bit riot-esque I will get mine once I find a neck of an MTV private rep And demand they write a check, with a memo reading 'life or d**h' So... Sooner than-later, I'll be scooping the-paper Saying toodalooo to the neighbors, gaining a pool plus some anchors Next to movers and shakers. To add to the group of Doers, not sayers; those who stoop, the naysayers My flow's 'roid ragin', so, I got no patience My poise is vacant and these snot nose famous- a**hole's, only stimulate the cash flow They motivate my a**, yo. Oh, plus my gas low That's soon to be my past though! Maybe even with that last quote. Not showing off my fast flow But see, its not to bag ho's. They whistle like a gla** bowl. They're Kennedy...Well me, I play the gra** knoll, with eyes on me, but im'ma have to pa** though (Sorry!) I already got a sweet-cheeked pretty sweetie in my suite Subtweeting, fiending for the D But I need a dollar... a dollar, dollar's all I need I'll origami fold a seed, plant a tree, and retire in peace After reaping all the leaves I got a card up my sleeve, seen as a heart on my sleeve I go so hard, I'm bound to peak; double meaning, not discrete Life is sweet- bon apeteet! born elite, soaring toward prestige Sworn to drop heat, so pristine- Luol Deng, March of ‘13 I bust my balls, like bacci, as a young Sydney Crosby To get my goals- no hockey. So self-directed- obvi... I got that from my poppy, but the way I loop on the track You'd think my pops was Ricky Bobby, probably ...But he oughta be I got the green lit so nobody's gonna stop me Till I say so, properly... OUTRO: Okay... Now drop the beat