I Never - CYNE

I never brag about the crack I sell

See, my rap rebel

Using metaphoric rap that sound like murder

My competition’s unheard of

Akin to pull a bitch-nigga card—now Al is Alberta

Just like the old saying

Yeah, these foes are playing

But my pro-slave foe, so your flow’s game

I run around with bad thoughts astounding

Faces in the crowd may doubt my moral grounding

I’m quite sane though, playing without a Kango

When this year, I’m running and gunning—MC's are lame, so

They’re better off dead, I’m letting off lead

Middle finger, fake artist, scribe slave on your head—I'm ready

Speech aesthetic, you get it, edit the bullshit

Which quasi-intellect need a fix?

I bought a toolkit

Screw you.

Fuck abusing a plier, you’s a liar

A raindrop’ll put out your fire.

Nigga who you?

Be

Stepping at these immaculate MC with vocabulary

That never talk about shit that I ain’t never done

And try to stunt it like some bitch-ass nigga holding wands

I’m that nigga that’s speaking the truth

Repping Africa.

We here—now these cowards are through

We blew out your flame ‘cause we reign eternal

Never talk shit when topic at hand don’t concern you

Nigga, listen.

I’m still the real, so don’t forget

Blow the guns poetic, hang a cracker by the neck

Bet.

Yes, intelligent Africans got this

Lock with the key to open sesame, I’m Lochness

Monster when I bang right out the closet—freedom rang

But not on a homo tip.

That Nat Turner burn a bitch

Stone pigeon in a ditch, left for the birds and shit

Start ground for Earth to shift price—now control that

Slow, I went from Garveyite to pro-black

To universal nigga, rocking mics—fuck the throwback

Blow, ‘cause I was taught by some old cats

On how to cause terror with planning and kill your Kodak

Moment—that's assuming you was caught in the blast

Snap back to Earth where Jacks jump for the cash

And they ask why my pants sag, exposing my ass

And white Confederate dads get stabbed in the abs

Know the pen’s sharp as the wit, and so is the pad

Upon which computers flinch at a sight while I laugh

Scribbling bars.

Now we got Water for Mars

For those that crave for the lactose and cookies in jars

Nigga