Rap King that's my title, I go over heads **** anatomy, I juggle life literally Really b, you ain't in my league or vicinity Drake of the game, niggas stealing all my energy Beat the devul outta niggas but I ain't an exorcist More elementalist, depends on weather I do the **** Think Jason how I get the kill, always from the cut On moon everyday, I don't do the guilds Shiting on you niggas got em sayin E-U Not a diss or nothing to my homies out in London Address the haters like I knowing of the residence Call me randy orton Catch em mid air and break em into pieces Platform to platform and call it demolition Guess he died from the drop like a ***** snitching, you listening I only punch that's boxing But my kicks crazy, I'm shopping Talk **** so explicit Get wins in Charlie Spitting kinda mean I'm a savage Lemme tell u what I really meant Pettiness Find the residence, ddos to take the Internet I been direct, I hit men so I'm getting checks I'm a vet Come and get it dog, I'm a monster Or maybe I'm a zombie with a canon launcher Lining up the waves like a barber Think Charmander, I'm spitting fire I'm an ice breaker on a glacier, too cold Got pistols I don't hold that go du du du du DU, like yugioh You ain't get it though so I'm moving on, get the u haul Best rapper out of you all They down duck my battle I prolly won't battle Cassidy the only ***** I wana battle Christ and devul I wana battle, cause **** religion In my own lane that I travel Hold the sword of the commander I see dead man walking Or should I say skeles Eat the rapper on my candies **** is kinda tasty, now I gotta pray at the dark monastery Let's go bming,
My man said, his bars are like "Charmander" thinking that we all would agree. I think it's more like wet charcoal or a right angle, cuz that **** didn't burn to the right degree. All these rumble fighter rappers type up nonsense in the worst way, I guess it's time to educate this clown on how to properly word-play. My verse stay, like a short-play, concise but accurate like a switch blade, I might say, those bars had some sway, but no grit like a trailer park drive-way, but let's say you made it big. Let's say you finally get out your mother's house and your rhymes have NEVER been tighter. Would you still be typing these raps on the forums of Rumble Fighter? This dead ass game is fitting for the bars that you spit. Looking at the comment section, everyone is tired of it. They're weaker than your daddy's pullout game, but you can't stop typing it. You've gotten less reaction than Ray Rice's wife right after he slapped the b-tch. Just stop it.