Peak Vocal acrobatics
I spit shit that's considered fantastic
Sleep patterns erratic
My quick wits build tracks that scratch backs
It's my sporadic verbal attacks that's leaving bitches flabbergasted
Askin "do you know who that is?"
"No but he flipped it like ol' Frank Fritz
Studebaker conveyor spat clips instilling tastes of the ecstatic
I've been that brash savage from spermatic to rheumatic
Word is he spit so hard his yakking symptomatic of asthmatics
Word game so strong heard his brains lacking gaps in between the synapses
Can't rap this shit as fast as his brain extracts it
Problematic poem crafting
Conversations don't elicit reactions
He's fighting back to keep the nasty abstractions packed in
Lest he snap and clap back with crass shit that can't be redacted
And if you think that's emblematic of skill just wait till he comes back in
I'm not the latest basic fruity haired hook sayer
I'm the next greatest creative
Debated alongside fellow poem-sprayers in top 5 conversations
Equated to Jay and them as annointed mayors of tape-player arson cases
Say a prayer for the laymen saying I can't be famous
Cause I don't say the same shit like eight times and look like a f*cking candy container
Shit is a no-brainer
I got flows to sustain you for arid days when there's no rain and you're stranded Somewhere inside the Sahara
Prepare you for war
When I come through it's more than stutterin' crossfader gamers
I'm the Darth Vader of lyrical undertakers
That is to say I'm not a hero but I'm still the savior
And this is a moment to savor
The formation of next in a line of road-paving, trail-blazing, mediocre-name erasers.
Heaven sent innovator, convention breaker
Made and raised to infuse the game with new flavors
Manifesting the destiny of "2Pac is Dead" proclaimers
Nolan Ward - Acrobatics Lyrics
Nolan Ward - Acrobatics Lyrics
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English
Peak Vocal acrobatics
I spit shit that's considered fantastic
Sleep patterns erratic
My quick wits build tracks that scratch backs
It's my sporadic verbal attacks that's leaving bitches flabbergasted
Askin "do you know who that is?"
"No but he flipped it like ol' Frank Fritz
Studebaker conveyor spat clips instilling tastes of the ecstatic
I've been that brash savage from spermatic to rheumatic
Word is he spit so hard his yakking symptomatic of asthmatics
Word game so strong heard his brains lacking gaps in between the synapses
Can't rap this shit as fast as his brain extracts it
Problematic poem crafting
Conversations don't elicit reactions
He's fighting back to keep the nasty abstractions packed in
Lest he snap and clap back with crass shit that can't be redacted
And if you think that's emblematic of skill just wait till he comes back in
I'm not the latest basic fruity haired hook sayer
I'm the next greatest creative
Debated alongside fellow poem-sprayers in top 5 conversations
Equated to Jay and them as annointed mayors of tape-player arson cases
Say a prayer for the laymen saying I can't be famous
Cause I don't say the same shit like eight times and look like a f*cking candy container
Shit is a no-brainer
I got flows to sustain you for arid days when there's no rain and you're stranded Somewhere inside the Sahara
Prepare you for war
When I come through it's more than stutterin' crossfader gamers
I'm the Darth Vader of lyrical undertakers
That is to say I'm not a hero but I'm still the savior
And this is a moment to savor
The formation of next in a line of road-paving, trail-blazing, mediocre-name erasers.
Heaven sent innovator, convention breaker
Made and raised to infuse the game with new flavors
Manifesting the destiny of "2Pac is Dead" proclaimers
I spit shit that's considered fantastic
Sleep patterns erratic
My quick wits build tracks that scratch backs
It's my sporadic verbal attacks that's leaving bitches flabbergasted
Askin "do you know who that is?"
"No but he flipped it like ol' Frank Fritz
Studebaker conveyor spat clips instilling tastes of the ecstatic
I've been that brash savage from spermatic to rheumatic
Word is he spit so hard his yakking symptomatic of asthmatics
Word game so strong heard his brains lacking gaps in between the synapses
Can't rap this shit as fast as his brain extracts it
Problematic poem crafting
Conversations don't elicit reactions
He's fighting back to keep the nasty abstractions packed in
Lest he snap and clap back with crass shit that can't be redacted
And if you think that's emblematic of skill just wait till he comes back in
I'm not the latest basic fruity haired hook sayer
I'm the next greatest creative
Debated alongside fellow poem-sprayers in top 5 conversations
Equated to Jay and them as annointed mayors of tape-player arson cases
Say a prayer for the laymen saying I can't be famous
Cause I don't say the same shit like eight times and look like a f*cking candy container
Shit is a no-brainer
I got flows to sustain you for arid days when there's no rain and you're stranded Somewhere inside the Sahara
Prepare you for war
When I come through it's more than stutterin' crossfader gamers
I'm the Darth Vader of lyrical undertakers
That is to say I'm not a hero but I'm still the savior
And this is a moment to savor
The formation of next in a line of road-paving, trail-blazing, mediocre-name erasers.
Heaven sent innovator, convention breaker
Made and raised to infuse the game with new flavors
Manifesting the destiny of "2Pac is Dead" proclaimers
Writer: Nolan Ward
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid