Ghost The ill-Figure - god Tier Rap Lyrics

Now I resurrect through the ink pen
So if I write your life on a sheet of paper and crumple it
You'll never be again
Your legacy rests in a trash bin
So you better keep your mouth from writing checks that your ass can't cash in
Tryna pass this
You bastards need practice from Cassius
I'll bash your clay ass backwards
Shooting wild sound waves
Take aim and melt your brain down to the last molecular frame
Your weak shit is pure yabba-dabba
Call me Shabba cuz my style Ranks higher then the average mic grabber
It's Boombastic you catch a fantastic ass kick
F*ckin wit ninjas that'll melt you quicker than plastic
I murder emcees in pairs like birds flock together
Beretta shots splatter ya goose
Scatter your feathers
Put an end to any vendetta,
Rushing spots like Vetta
Gettin paid off talent
Call it Kraft cheddar
While you lames thriving off high school fame
Doing 40 in the left lane
The limits 70 boy
Pull the cord and make you gasp to realize how fast this shit go from your mama's pussy to the mutha f*ckin morgue
The leader of new world like Lionel Otis
In that new Ford Bronco flying like Lotus
You should know this pen flow like water to ocean
One wiff of my ink
You smell these rhymes potent
F*ck reality bites
My mind living inside the greatest art pieces cuz they say that shit imitates life
Like a Jackson Pollock canvas
But it won't be paint or for the faint when this lyrical tank splatter ya manses
Shatter your chances at any kind of advancement
Me and the mic are interwoven something kind of like tantric
48 straight bars leave ya whole team frantic
I'm damn ill and y'all just can't stand it
Go Nas, Black Thought, Ghostface and Prodigy
Ice Cube, works cited for this type of ology
For that whack shit, I need a lifetime apology
We abolishing cats careers to cosmetology
How the hell are y'all from the same town as me
But tryna sound like a cat from a whole nother city
Great imitators, rap impersonators
You play a Sarah Connor
I'll be The Terminator

Run you down and decimate ya
T-800 behavior
Not even Kyle Reese is coming back in time save ya
You never saw me coming like head in the dark
One step you turn to explosion of sparks
You and your team ain't nothing but a couple of marks
Jeepers Creepers kid I'm snatching a couple a hearts
Megalodon I ain't scared to swim with the sharks
I'm Cujo all bite, f*ck all of them barks
I'm deranged, mangle ya brain, with saw made of chains
Now I'm looking for a way to clean all these stains
You a lame, father the same
You probably won't survive
This the last level of the f*ckin Squid Game
Take another step
You drop to your death
I'm the last standing
Cut my f*ckin check
I'm like the modern day Barkley Hendricks
My pen painting conceptualized portraits like we kindred.
Mash you out without a posse
Not even Billy Danz, Fizzy Womack, or Teflon could stop me
I'm like your tenth cup of coffee Bad for health probably
These bars left you concussed and feeling wobbly
Most my counterparts need a baby sitter
F*ck a group, 3's A Company
But I ain't John Ritter.
Don't ever think I'll let you get a pass
When you least expect, on your ass wearing an anonymous mask