Lyrics Off My Chest - Knox Hill

Off My Chest

Paranormal activity, active with the actions in my brain
Actively I’m tracking apparitions in my veins
Check my swing, ghost writers, I’m a lefty
Y’all brag about your flow, I’m ghost riding on a jet ski
Don’t test me
Switch hitter Mickey Mantle in his prime in the Bronx
Dropping bomb after bomb like B-29 on a Nagasaki dawn
No tattoos, I bare arms
Spill your Sake on these bars
The ARs like Tamagotchi
Hip strapped go Kawasaki
Spin your wheel, that’s Yamasaki
Do the math, I’m Fibonacci
You zeroes, I’m the one
One trigger, two bullets, three millimeters
Five bullies laid dead
That means two I snap with a strap
That’s no cap
I don’t really do it for you keyboard kids
Your typ’s to type rap
When I rap, that’s how I live
I was raisd in PG
If you don’t know it, look it up
Some parental guidance needed with the cracks cooking up
Killers, victims, drug dealers in the cut
I remember girls getting shot when they was pregnant
I remember bodies at the mall where I would check in
I remember watching dawgs thrown in jail for weapons
And they ain’t snitching (They ain’t snitching)
So my bad, if I don’t really fit with this YouTube drug
Yeah, your boys got some views and now it’s you two tall
Box 'em in, I got a chin, but I don’t usually jaw
Masturbating motherfuckers, man
You do y’all
But y’all see skin tone and Em clone
With a bent nose, hoes bent
I bend flows in a Bentley beam
And that’s just how success goes (Goes)
Hip-hop is what raised me
Black people saved me
But say he’s a racist, he hates it
He’s playing a stage and a face for the plays
But the same shit you say is the same shit you hate
And if you say it enough, it becomes what you ain’t
And it stains on your brain every day
Do you result in the same things you fought against
Predicting insecurities on me and my
I been living in your head without fees
And picture breakdowns without me
In an age where too many die
I’m keeping lyricism alive
The lyrically inclined have a steep climb
But we keep trying
Fishing rappers in a creek
Till we hit that mainstream and finally shift tides
I’m holding services, it’s Knox
You know he would spit at your funeral
I cut you low, G
Don’t open cask- it’s the
Return of the be murderer
Earning the cash that I’ll burn it all
I’m sending him any winners
I’m shivering
I’m wishing for a bigger dinner
Sick of all this saying, «Get the bigger picture»
Portrait of a giver, who was lost, now is winning
Pass your plate, I fork you with it
What you bakin', pork you with it
Scorch you with it
Going at him for your ribs
Now I’m quartering you digs
Call it portrait of a bitch (Shot)
Till you walk a mile in my shoes
I cut your NF’ing legs, paid my dues
Most of the dudes ain’t gotta clue what I been through
So listen here, this the type of soul you put a pen through
I just put the pen to my painted ink stains when I’m blown
I don’t do this for the fame
Man I write this shit in love
And when I do run outta lead
I’ma right this shit in blood
And kill 'em all
Word to Flam
I got this off of my chest
So get the message while I DM
Man, it’s all love to the X
Rest in piece
Man, fuck this