Martin Malota - Glorious. lyrics

I'm not a k**er, but I'll fight with my hands and hand it to me For k**ing everybody with this mic in my hand I'm not a gangsta, but I'll get that way, cause family's first Get your faculty hurt, you would regret that day I'm not a rapper, but I'll rap about wrapping a fishing wire Around your neck til the skin breaks and you're bleeding to d**h I'm the epitome of 180, I turned it around, y'all learning My sound is scorched earth, I'm burning the ground I'll take y'all fakes to the edge of the lake where I'll cut you up Uppercut with a knife in my fist like "What the f**" Keep the blade facing out, until there's blood on my hands And vacant land. I'm making history, not making the band Y'all grab Glocks in random spots? I plot this sh** out Wake up beside the head of a horse - the hit is out We in the south of Michigan, we dirty enough... I know Surreños out in Cali that'll murder you up I thought of ways to make you leave from this place, so take note I'm a k**er that hopes to stick a ball point right in to your throat And it's a waste...to see me with blanks Cause this is both life and d**h in a quote, I tote shanks Motherf**ers done awakened the beast, you see the veins in my neck You f**ing lames, you know I came for respect This is the last time I want to explain, there's never rain on a check Dotted line b**h, name and the rest Driving a tank out the way to the plains Bust off a cannon at close range while bumping the intro to 40 days In the rain, I pop out and I hop into frame Bayonet through your temple enter in to your brain You think I'm sick? Then see me on pad, or in the lab sh** is drawn out and mapped...stark raving mad There's method to the madness, I silence the lambs Stab your hype-man with the mic stand, put the mic in my hand