Lyrics Issue - K21, Trials, Sesta

Issue

Cash splash on the Zildjian
Making progress like a pilgrim
Immortal from the immolation, double bass
Kick 'em in the face, Mike Smith, give ‘em suffocation
Autobiography of an entire nation
Living in a parallel statement
Mind in a different place, forever spacin'
Blind so I skip through the maze and never pacin'
Uncensored sentence, bleedin' all on the senseless
K21 a legion for the defenceless
Go ham to the bone while I see you all on the benches
So I act like Ramone as soon as I crawl through the entrance
Intoxicated, guess it’s all in the essence
Ain’t no vanilla, you’ll get more than my besas
Abuela said start counting all of your blessings
‘Cause ain’t many more of them left where you’re steppin'
Screen calls when I get ‘em don’t think I’m listenin'
Dodging questions like Richard Nixon
Bluff the interview — still I’ll get the call
But the offer ain’t as ever good as this position
So I’m yellin' like it’s D-Day, ready for war
Ain’t ever gonna stop until we settle the score
Drifting like a ghoul, it’s how I get through your door
With so much trouble on my mind that I can never ignore it
I guess
I got an issue with
Every rapper than I’m running into
They huffin' and puffin'
But flow as weak as a fuckin' tissue
So cum in it, chuck in a fuckin' bin
Rough as they come, so I rub it in
It keep fallin' out, so I tuck it in
Twenty-twenty-one
Yup, Any Given D-Day
You got that plenty fish left in the sea face
Wouldn’t get a wave bigger than this
Without the sea floor covered in C4 to Timor (wow)
Bad news brigade, listen here brigadier (listen here)
I’ma walk in, pick a beer, disappear
Come back and do it again, with the intent to ruin events
Doin' it twice to any crew it offends
Godzilla of non filler and not fair
Long hair Nicholas Cage in Con Air, yeah
Coming straight out of Mad Max
Put it in that box like they IKEA flat packs (wow)
That’s how it look
Rubbing sweet victory in that sour puss
Got a weapon and I’m steppin' to the wealthy (that's death)
Take a shot while I’m taking a selfie
Real fuckin' song and dance, wavin' arms
Choppin' hands, make a silly voice
With a sock on my hand, you savin' up
But I’m robbin' banks, there’s no pullin' out
I’m now pushing prams but, ah, fuck it
Build a whole legion, dig a hole deeper
Anybody wanna fuck around, I got dirty little pills
In the pavlova, have a sleep in
And wake up in the evenin' in a different season
Nurse looking at you and ain’t listening to reason (what it look like?)
I see you sweating, see you gleeking (the rook type)
And if you slept, well, then it’s treason (goodnight)
They saying sorry, ain’t Aziz and
Every time the TV turning on, I’m seeing demons
People that I’m told to trust, but I don’t believe them
Even in the club you told me that she looked decent
Until you find yourself back at her maisonette
Then you smell her face, she got baited breath
Process of elimination suggest
I guess the best foundations are left
When I enter most of the time
For no reason, 'tis the season
For beating off and then cheese it
Burn the footage, I got it, burn it down, then repeat it
Clean it, let 'em know that don’t move me
Looking like I got left off «Bad and Boujee»
Golden Era fella, might’ve heard of it?
Bet your mother wanna get it like a Thermomix
Dumb freebaser, fuck Speed Racer
Couldn’t urn one thing without cremation (that's right)
Yeah, put the stank in your system
High five your mums while I’m thanking your sisters
Um, you know, yeah, for the—for the food
And I even dying when they bury me
All I do is cross-check ‘em like a PhiIly Flyer in the seventies
They lying, ain’t friend of me, spying for the enemy
The reason I’m Khalifa chiefin' higher than I’ve ever been
So you can find me snatching your dank then I’m missing
Till it’s blown everywhere like I’m cooking crank in your kitchen
I been yellin', I been screamin', but they ain’t gonna listen
Till I’m treatin' ‘em like Azalea Banks with a chicken
Had a hiatus, but I’m a coyote with it
Going psycho when I flow every time I done did it
Every night merge day until I don’t know the difference
And that’s why one these days I might just go ballistic
Soldiering down the highway going seventy-six
Tskk, I’m not that fun man anymore
I’m ‘bout my friends and my biz and ain’t blending that shit
With a face like this, fuck, I’m needing vanity for?
I told a chick that «I love her» then stuck my dick in another
With a brain like this, fuck, I’m needing sanity for?
Work on this till their whole anatomy sore
Splattering gore up on your canvas and walls, splashin' the floor
That you stand on
I got an issue with
Every rapper than I’m running into
They huffin' and puffin'
But flow as weak as a fuckin' tissue
So cum in it, chuck in a fuckin' bin
Rough as they come, so I rub it in
It keep fallin' out, so I tuck it in