R.U.I.N. - W.O.W. (Words Of War) Pt.1 lyrics

(Intro—Verse 1) I lit myself on fire with the propane that I found/ Now God inspires me, so I'm not profane but profound/ You say you strong, it won't be enough, you built like a truck? / HA! you ain't King of the city, you built Robbie Ford Tough/ Man, you should just stay far/ time you wish upon a Gangstarr/ I'm really really sorry this is just the way thangs are/ Boys going thrift shopping for vintage Macklemore gimmicks/ sh**, I went to Goodwill, Sally ann, Value Village/ Cause I lived it/ Expected this resilience/ but not the brilliance/ Of this magnificence / Where everything I spill has been this ill since/ You threw up all your gang signs/ But then like Jerry, your Seinfeld when you saw that I came by/ (Hook) (Space Jam Ref.) If I hit 'em high, hit 'em high, hit 'em high And you hit 'em low, hit 'em low, hit 'em low If I hit 'em high, hit 'em high, hit 'em high And you hit 'em low, hit 'em low, hit 'em low (Verse 2) Before I rhyme I stick my d*** in coke/ then I'll be effing dope/ You lyrical? Hardly/ you want beef think Arby's/ I don't smoke dope/ “I ain't no joke”/ tanned in the light of genius Got a stroke/ Pokémon, I'm a monster/ One peek at You I conquer/ I'll leave you to God/ brain's on the track I don't even lose my train of thought/ I'm not/ using words/ I'm making syllables curve/ and Swerve/ to my mind's urge/ So I don't even wanna give others a turn/ My God! / When I hit you, you'll be clock-a-Snitch-a-phobic/ you compensating Constipated, you talk-a-lot-of-sh** but hold it/ Snuff these wanna-bes, I'll do it Wal-Mart Style/ Cause I'll run them over, then I'll Rollback with a smile/ So you gotta choose with The Blueprint, Jay-Z or KRS? / 2Pac's back as a fat a** or 2Pac never left / The Industry won't ever stop seducing'em/ just treat These Maybach rappers like pennies, just stop producing'em/ And there's no such thing as a Che Guervara with bling on/ Jay-Z mogul talk to streets sounds to me like klingon/ I may talk over your heads, but never behind your backs/ Straight talking/ no gossip/ this a ‘lemme remind you' rap / They say I'm way too intellectual on my rap tracks/ But I'm back/ so all of y'all can just kiss my big abstract/ An oracle can't be lyrical, gotta be kidding/ Really?/ This verse like New York in 98', no Biggie/ (Hook) (X2) (Outro—Verse 3) I k** boys/ with a filled Hilroy/ make them still noise/ cricket/ Take the g outta their grill, then all they got's a real choice/ Spit it/ more dreaded than Rastas/ even with a buzz cut/ Feet on the ground/ head in the clouds/ just to tell you what's up/ See you're the B-grade movie, I wouldn't even torrent/ The artsy fartsy snarky flick, that's too God damn boring/ We traded Pokemon cards, now it's YouTube videos/ It ain't that different, it's all just too really silly yo/ Got our Fantasy MC team, mixing up our roster/ When we should all just really be, fixing up our posture/ I got Words for War, coming straight out my pocket/ but I'm A pacifist, who won't pa** a fist, cause that's my logic/ What would happen, if you took all the B-rabbit battle rappers/ Put'em in the library instead of strapping? / Cause you could rap ‘Fertility lyrically, the d*** of Noah Webster/ Gamble on strippers, but no one's bet her (better)'/ But you're the only one who cares, cause you running from what You fear the most/ that they'll see your tears behind all your boasts/ So here's a quote/ you make a living by what you earn/ But you make a life by what you give, so you should really learn/ Your arrogance, swag, and all your bullsh** self-accolades/ Won't matter a bull's sh**, when you drift, melt and pa** away/ Cause boasting won't get you your respect or pay your mortgage/ Cause Out of everyone, you are not the most important/