Destiny N Stereo Video (MV)

I run the track by lacing the strings and the bass kicks
That's the basics
And then wear the loop like bracelets
I will forever write thorough
And if you were to see how much it grosses out, you might hurl
Just shows you how my future's looking brighter
I shouldn't be tooken lighter than that welterweight division decision when booking fighters
'Cause I'm as big as the Brooklyn writer from the East Coast
As a deceased ghost and here's an increased dose
Of that raw exquisite
Haven't been down since I came up
So I feel I defy The Law of physics
And this time I'm containing the plan
To drop a jewel on whoever the weakest link on your chain of command
I know these lines is up high above your head propelling
Y'all hit the mainstream to catch air time something like parasailing
I know where you felling, but I don't care and telling
I don't spare melons, so on the snare I'm tearing your cerebellum

The sound of destiny in stereo
The sound of destiny in stereo

Yo, rap like he's starvin'
Uncivil writer, rap like he marchin'
And then sang like he Marvin
Not saying that I'm great
Just saying that I alienate
Myself from competiton like he martian
'Til I'm departing
Stay abreast like I'm D. Parton
That's how he garden
I chop, I chef, nigga, I G Garvin
I feel so invigorated, such an inovator
Still got nuthin' but love for an imitator
Man, y'all makin' daddy so proud
Let me put y'all report cards up on my 'frigerator
He the truth, ain't a demonstrator
If it ain't in them, I will end them
So carve intimidators
Hot boy, no limitations
Moving in money circles, nigga, I'm figure skating
It's destiny, bro

The sound of destiny in stereo
The sound of destiny in stereo

We make while we are far from home
While my lady's sleeping there alon
While I'm inside a studio
Or out on the road, doing all these shows

Lights low, nice ambience
When I die, put me in the pantheon
Of niggas who be spittin' like, "What the f*ck your man be on?"
I am not the eaverage, I am a man beyond
I am a champion
A nice steak served over mixed greens topped off with grilled champingnons
And you weak niggas, I'm stomping on
Been braised, been villified
Captain Kirk of the hardship enterprise
Where the realest guys would rather serve five-to-ten than work a ten-to-five
There's no logic but f*ck it, that's how they feel inside
A f*ckin' genocide
A cold six-foot and a pretty pine box with your friend inside
I tried to tell 'em the illusion is not real
And you are not ill, nigga, 'cause you stealin' vibes
It's your destiny, yo, shit