Sam's Word | King Chavez скачать в хорошем качестве

Sam's Word | King Chavez

Hello to all, continuing with the theme of The Better Than Show, an idea of becoming better than oneself, this track was inspired by the homie Sam who gave me the word "intermediate" to start freestyling to and turned into a full song Heard by few, hopefully, liked by many Word to Daga Beatmaker for the beat (I bought it)    • DAGA BEATMAKER - 1928 / 808 Instrumental H...   Sometimes I do my own stunts, but I still write my own rhymes ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Lyrics : I do what I can to keep it intermediate You unreliable, can’t trust you, call you Wikipedia Strike 100 times, I’m something like a centipede (as if) You think you can test me like an kitchen streaming kit, I don’t mean food, so don’t go pulling your ingredients out of the cabinet, no mustard seeds in it It’s hard to grow up from my style when it’s all I ever did But being like these contemporaries in rap I could have never been It ain’t my taste like promiscuous women sitting on linen, cutting lemons, scented like a feminine menace, the dreaded image of imminent death by fellow tenants if I ever tell the world of their blemishes, I’m basically sentenced to die once I get from them the hint I’m diminished, “Ciao, now, Chavez, and good riddance” But if they touch me, bet cash, imma strike back Take a stand for myself, stiff, as a symbol, a high hat Simple tempo, denied facts, might not be that tall, but I spit raps to make up for the height that I lack Besides that, can I mention ?- I have a blind cat, but that’s a lie, fabrication to match my rhyme stat “My dog died in outer space and now I’m sad” I said it cause it fit the status quo “I got the fashion, clothes, mackin’, no passion for these checker patterned hoes, partying, clubbed, drunk, mad, and yo, tempt me well enough, start attacking friends, dads, foes, then I'll dash to the back, grab my gat, unload” You bout to “let off”? That’s outdated, overrated, get a pet frog Be creative, rap about how you love him like you do your dead dog Or even talk up some hobbies up, rushing folks, can you contest all? You like to shoot- for the stars? Oh, got it so net, ball? Just keep it real, stop massaging your ego Drop facades stop it, you ain’t villainous, evil for all that big talk you’re small, minuscule, feeble Put on a bold persona when you high as a kite, hawk, or eagle What would it take for the people to see straight through that thin sheet of fecal fake flamboyant fraudulent free speech you preach, that shouldn’t be legal You losing lighter ligaments that could be potentially lethal, dangerous Like feeding a seagull diesel and naming him Cecil Painting him, framing him to a canvas on an easel Claim they know What A Thug About, but dont know Beanie Sigel You phony, deceitful, living a life full of lies, gleeful I'll put you to sleep stick you with a needle and I'll- Wait switch flows and schemes, I’m on my tip toes, it seems like I can get bold and confident outta nowhere, enough to overthrow a King and knowing me, I’d contest myself, compose a scheme, clone multiple me’s, fight, leave bloodied faces, broken bones and knees, wipe myself off, make sure my nose is clean Hose off my clothes, sneeze, then proceeded to skip town and close the ring, intergalactic war crimes, I’m known globally Score is 0-3 when I fist fight foes and fiends frantically scrambling from a death stare leaving em frozen- green vegetables stolen from markets on Grover Street covered in clover leaves Dreads beaded up like rosary Hit up Sam’s Club for groceries And anyone in my proximity or is close to me knows my teeth aren’t platnium, gold; they’re teeth How’s bedazzling your gnashers “dope” or “G” or smoking weed? It’s overrated and gonna be a no for me I’m floating free amongst the clouds made from smoldered trees The colder breeze Thanks for the listen!