Verse 1:
Spending a million days chilling like a baller, but I’m still a bachelor,
I’m the master *****, the funk villian,
Killing these ill feelings, like a *******.
Call me Captain Picard, galaxy speeding.
Bumping to tunes, in my Lincoln Navigator.
Living fate with taro cards, ***** bussing.
Cussing out haters, phonies is paper weight.
Knock ‘em out, let me demonstrate.
Verse 2:
Demonstrating, how to knock ‘em out,
These paperweight phonies, and haters imma cuss em out.
Buss em ****, using taro cards, living out fate,
Navigating while linking my tunes, to start bumping.
Speeding through galaxies, like Captain Picard.
I’m a *******, feelings so ill I could ****.
Got that villain funk, ******* call me master.
Balling like a bachelor, just chilling each day spending millions.
Verse 3:
Game has changed, so has the times.
Instead of writing rhymes, peoples is snorting em.
Deranged turn coats full of phlegm.
Instead of pronouncing vowels, they’s mumbling.
Music has become the chum bucket,
With occasional golden gems.
Shout out Denzel, Joey, Johnson, kaan, and Williams.
And I’ll be ****** like a John ham mad man,
If I start shooting up drugs and end up in neverland.
Flying, off the handle, like a dysfunctional Peter Pan.
Verse 4:
I’ve seen dysfunctional Peter’s, plan not pan out,
So, many times they’s handles have fallen off.
Going off to neverland, because them drugs shoot ‘em up.
**** man these kids madder than John Ham.
Why can’t they be more creative like, Williams, kaan, Johnson, Joey, and Denzel man?
I guess not every gems golden,
Like expecting a bucket of chum producing good music.
With many mumbling vowels, bet they can’t even pronounce phlegm.
Fulls coats turned red, feel betrayed, because the sounds turned deranged.
With rappers snorting lines, instead of writing them.
I guess the times has changed, and I guess so too must the game.
Verse 5:
Asked to choose between a beemer, Benz, or Bentley.
All the same when I’m drinking henny on the highway.
Swerving on them fools, than repent on Sunday.
Attempting not to catch a fine, at least till payday.
Spiralling downhill, mayday mayday.
Declining like the popularity of Spyro.
My internal plains a pyro, La lumbre, lumbre.
Think I need a vk, chilling in the jungle with dk.
Verse 6:
Go bananas in the jungle like Dk,
Just swinging, chilling, relaxing like it’s a vk.
Dancing with La lumbre, lumbre,
No fly zone during the eternal pyro.
**** popularity, imma burn down this ***** like I’m Spyro.
Imma never decline someone screaming, mayday, mayday.
If I did I know that would be a downhill spiral.
Where payday just another day,
But I pretend things are fine,
Attempting smiles, whilst receiving a sundae.
Only fools repent, can’t swerve me compadre.
Doing things my way,
Getting drunk and high,
Addictions are all the same.
Numbing the pain, by paying for fancy cars like Bentley’s, Benz’s, and beemers.
Because to choose between would be insane.
Inspired by Joyner Lucas’s rap song Backwards.