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The Big Hurt
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Apathy
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Apathy ft. Punchline, Wordsworth, A.L. (All Lyrics), Wiseguy, and Gaston - “The Big Hurt” I know This girl Tijuana, she get hot like a sauna She give good head and like n***as to p*ss on her Chills on the corner, twists marijuana My man used to flaunt her, hit it, he’s a goner Strip club performer that turned informer Told her all the sh*t she did in the past to haunt her. Yo, yo, we’re Not lying, your honor. Death before dishonor Apologies to my ex. I left her for her momma Too many labels, no brand, complain about commercial-paid Programs when they hold hands and play slow jams Demos? If I don’t like what you rappеd on it Then I gave it to Punch with a copy of this track on it On-point and ready, two sips of Hеnny Had your girl pulling Striptease like Demi The way she fake an orgasm, she should get an Emmy Sex many, lap-dance for a penny For those that envy, squeeze ‘til I’m empty When I come through, talk under your breath like Kenny. I ain’t Got a penny, hardly ever dress up, peeping Flo-Jo Run track just to see her breasts jump Tell women it’s about the mind—the line works You ugly, you gotta check if they’re blind first Cyphers in circles clockwise and set curfews If I’m wack, I’m just joining you in a little role reversal “Step up if you wanna get hurt” - Sample from Milk Dee on Audio Two - “Top Billin’” Ain’t that A b*t*h how hip hop died and became so redundant? I’m here to make a switch as America’s Most Wanted Get out the cypher fast, you won’t survive or last. You try To blast, I’ll make you crash into ass ‘cause you fiberglass My father passed. Been ill since a sonogram I’m seeing n***as but can’t feel ‘em like a hologram With hotter jams, raising hands like a stick-up I got a lot of plans in full-gear like a pickup No remorse, of course, I don’t care if you have kids Bring your written sh*t, kid. I’ll take you out with my ad-libs And I’m out for the cash, seeing more than a check placed. After I rock a show, the whole crowd’s in need of a neck brace The best of the best, y’all could call me The Last Dragon. I’m being Modest right now—just imagine when I’m bragging, n***a “Step up if you wanna get hurt” - Sample from Milk Dee on Audio Two - “Top Billin’” (x2) Now presenting the award for The Best Lyricist And the winner is… (Wiseguy!) no need to even finish it The definitive answer’s the n***a with raps to capture The mind of rappers ‘til the final chapter You’re mesmerized by every line every time Whenever I rhyme, I got your death on my mind. The deadliest Rhymes do work when put to the task. I’ll need A footbath after putting my foot up your ass through your Drawn-ass basics, I’ll put my Asics so far up Your anus, my laces’ll get caught in your braces You’re tasting defeat, but it ain’t that sweet when my feet Scrapes your cheeks and went straight through your teeth From New York to Connecticut, it gets no better than this Six of the deadliest emcees to ever exist. Yeah I’m prejudiced—I just hate a wack emcee But fact is he actually hates me too ‘cause he’s no match for me I’m real, not factory-sealed, no label manufactured me No batteries and no guarantee. You battle me? It’s at Your own risk. Most opponents know this: you don’t mess with Gas’ Catch a good old, down-home, old-fashioned ass-whipping Cats licking their wounds, sitting in their rooms, cursing my Existence ‘cause my freestyles burning their writtens, others Quitting, but you’re persistent, still kicking wack Rhyme after wack rhyme—at least you’re consistent, but I’m Consistently efficient. Brothers wishing they could fit in my position But I’ma cancel your subscription to living. Thanks for listening Specifically horrific, my physics are quantum When I stomp ‘em. Y’all are on the d**k like a condom I melt to radiate your latex, aviate around The apex of a mountain, phonetic fountain, I’m spouting Sporadic, raps automatically patterned after Apathy Shattered the ring around Saturn, you’re saddened due to tragedy Foes take a body count of all the fatalities Flawless victory, the rawest lyrically, the epitome Of puncturing punks’ jugulars for jacking sh*t I’m rapping, I’m packing Accurate raps, immaculate compared to wacker sh*t You half-assed rappers spit. I’m rapid-fire, expiring Like electrical live wires, I’m tiring Liars with facts, I’m liver with raps, I’m tire on tracks I’ll grab the mic, and you’ll never get your cypher back Lyrics still control my verse like pills Control birth, still not the run-of-the-mill I phonetically kill, rappers better be still. When I Embedded raps in grills, they said I’m incredibly ill I trample over beats and samples like feet in sandals On sand where camels’ll cross ample distance in The Desert of Arabian, Homo sapien cannibal Lighting it like a flammable candle, handles on mechanical Guillotines I’m moving three inches vertically Decapitating those foes who oppose me verbally “Step up” - Sample from Milk Dee on Audio Two - “Top Billin’” (x5) “Step up if you wanna get hurt” - Sample from Milk Dee on Audio Two - “Top Billin’” (x2) “Get hurt” - Sample from Milk Dee on Audio Two - “Top Billin’” (x3) “Step up if you wanna get hurt” - Sample from Milk Dee on Audio Two - “Top Billin’” “Since you understood…” - Sample from Milk Dee on Audio Two - “Top Billin’”
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