Lyrics Persevere - Molemen, Mass Hysteria

Persevere

I swear to God I’m hungry, plus blood thirsty
I paid dues, but if I don’t make it who the fuck gon' reimburse me?
No one, so it’s up to me to remain true
We came through to spark it with your lame crew in plain view
You fantasize that you might be a star
Thought you got open but didn’t even get slightly ajar
I done seen your style before
A little talent and soul but when the pressure is on you fold
You couldn’t take the heat I guess you had enough
See problem is, you don’t wanna be the best bad enough
You ain’t hungry like me my heart pumps rocket fuel
I stay on my own dick like playing pocket pool
Seeing me is like seeing microscopic molecules
Think not then son put up your profits and jewels
You’ll be feeling me no matter what vocal pitch that I’m rhyming in
Style switch with perfect timing
And I’m outshining men with wordplay
I’m always in the lab
On the down low, seldom seen like deadbeat dads
A legend in the making and you can’t be one
Cause it takes more than just skill to be a champion
It takes equal parts of talent, luck and ac'
Charisma, qualities you certainly lack
We two of the industries freshest rebels
We don’t fuck with platinum chains, we deal with other precious metals
Example
I got a heart of gold
An iron will, balls of brass, nerves of steel
Words is real and Gee-Field can tell
That you don’t stand a snowballs chance in Hell to advance and prevail
I’m making my point perfectly clear
That when cats is half stepping this year we persevere
«Listen, we here to give the hardcore what they looking for» — Xzibit
«Dedicated»
«To those who know the deal» — Talib Kweli
«It ain’t a game»
«We ain’t afraid to bring the war»
No other crew gets this nice
We pay dues kid we live this life
(We living it ch’all)
Born to rip mics and spit shit tight
I show you how to rip shit right
Peace to my man Cap D
Bobby and Tone B
Rap be
More than a hobby it’s my only
Purpose in life
Ain’t shit else worth the strife
But mics and perfect beats, not a search for a wife
And fuck 9 to 5 jobs
Punching time cards is last in line of my probs
See my squad’s trying to defy odds
Design more hits than you find from Ty Cobb
Dimes and tight broads combine with nice
The kind of fly snobs inclined to drive Saabs
Trucks with phat rims plus a black Benz
My rap friends live plush and stack ends
Fuck the fads and trends
We’ve been down since the Jacksons, Cold Krush and back spins
Spin it back
And now we must have revenge
For past sins for has beens of wack hymns
Grab pads and pens
Amass mens like sailboats when I drop paragraphs and Timbs
Smack rims off of ducks with glass chins
Scuff my black Timbs I’ll bust the Mac-10's
Burn weak acts just like packs of Slims
For these cats seeking hats and brims
Keep cats running laps like tracks in gyms
These gats got 'em doing jumping jacks and back bends
Leave 'em soaking like a contact lens
When combat begins, your life contract ends
What happens then?
That depends
I could start swinging the ax and hacking limbs to fractions
And just chill, we mack slims
Sorta like bear traps attract skins to my lap like napkins
Then acts like captains and rap lords
Sip on half Coors
Piss on boards
Leave my jumping to pass ports
Wood grain dashboards or maybe a fast Porsche
But not if trash is
And if you that type you on a crash coarse with my task force