I Gotcha Back - Franc Grams, Apathy

I gotcha back but you’se best to watch your front

Cause it’s the brothers that front they be on the hunt

They criticize my moves, but copy my steps

They wanna be me, but won’t acknowledge my breaths

They’ll never come close.

no, not in my death

I’m ten steps ahead of the shit they plot next

Changing the game, audibles

Major pain, for those all opposed

Slaughter all em, or the most

I’m holocaustin all they flows

These nigga outta know, if Franc say it belong it quotes

Cause everything B Major, I never change up organ notes

Slaying all that approaches, hanging 'em all from throats n

Lyrically watch em cough and choke, the shit I wrote is potent

It’s sorta bogus, I’ll take they coffins and throw it

The villin, then get to killin the newbie that feels heroi

Ya’ll couldn’t keep up wit the mind of this guy, I

Would advise, while you might try, to reside on my side, why?

You would hate to be on the wrong team, as that long lead

Climbs mighty high, and the 1 with the loss leaves, please

First me, no I ain’t new Hova, smooth flower

Move over, get moved or get moved over

Hold up, I shut it down, work hard and abuse quotas

These other niggas ain’t got a shot, they too sober

Roll up, I used to pass piff and double ends

Then I moved the crack, had me bubbling

The Stacks-what-was-comin-in

Fire on deck, they would get blasted and come again

I just played the block like a bad bitch’s ugly friend

And now it’s raps that I’m hustling

Feds’ll probably throw me in the bing for the tracks I be smuggling

Each bar a ball, 16 two O’s

All my grindin niggas do the math, niggas too slow, oh

Was known by the fiends, for coke that I re’d

In O’s for cheese, never was I known for the keys

Or known by the D’s, was smooth I just sold for my needs

Got the bills paid, stayed fly and roamed as I please

Studio session, shuttin down the dopiest emcees

Flow is just mean, not a nigga close in his dreams

I keep it real, I don’t fabricate shit

While these rappers make everything

Like bitches with low self esteem, sheesh

My ways leave me in a better state, never break

If that fraud shit killed, y’all niggas would never waste

Spending cake on these bitches

Please, I don’t set up dates

I just get these hoes home cheap, me?

I’m section 8

Ay look, Apathy, it’s sad to see, half of the these

Wack emcees, act like they spazzing each track that they rap that trash I be

Actually laughing

Assassinate em happily, track or battles, ain’t half of me

A match for me?

I’d have to see

You better hope for the best but prepare for the worst

So prepare for my verse to come tearing through Earth

Like an asteroid, bigger than the moon

Black hole, vacuum, robotic, bionic baboon

Black mask on my face, raccoon, bank robber steez

Slang meth like a message from Mephistopheles

My isosceles pyramid contains remains of the pharaohs

Marrow and veins, their golden chains, spaceships and thangs

Hooks on their nose that’ll extract they brains

Better run and hide, motherfuckers get mummified

Put out in the sun and dried and over a dozen died

Constructing a tomb, met destruction and doom

Resurrected in the semen and get sucked in the womb

Like a cycle it’s forever it’s the Alpha Omega

I’m a warrior, war with me and get scalped for your feather

Got a scout on the mountain

That sends a signal to thousands of warriors

That are shouting louder than coyotes howling

Gauging eyes and disemboweling, fountains of blood spouting

Denouncing your gods, decapitated head bouncing

Douse 'em with gas, I’ll light a match while I’m lounging

Upon the couch while you’re crouching

Inside the corner just cowering

Nothing foul as a stench of the wench serving the ale

I’m on a search for the Grail, I’ll leave these serpents impaled

My dick inside a pussy resembles the birth of a whale

My verse’s land me in jail

I’ll sell a verse for the bail

I’ll reverse with the tail, spinning while I’m spitting out hail

Like I’m Jack Frost, I’ll jack off on your female

You better back off or blast off rockets like Soviets

Assassinate your bitch ass and all your associates

Even the sharks will get shook when Ap’s circling

My rap’s perfect, I chop pussies, I’m ax murdering

I’m evil as Hitchcock whenever the fifth cocked

So faggots trying to say they hip hop better kick rocks

I’m bagging up grams so my brother Grams

(What other Grams?)

Ain’t no other Grams, just a bunch of fucking holograms

I gotcha back