| Everybody is always claiming how they love a rapper
|
| Once they’re dead, they’re gonna bury down the dirt
|
| And rubble, put their body in a coffin, family (?)
|
| There won’t be another (?) on the murals, on the wall
|
| Social media is bullshit as I call it
|
| They don’t get the recognition 'til you’re gone, deceased
|
| People are showing their love in reverse
|
| 'Cause they more optimal when you’re no longr the opposition
|
| When you’re covred in earth
|
| And from the body and spirit dispersed
|
| Fully departed, many influential we called artists
|
| Making music, being taken for granted
|
| Disregarted, underrated, overlooked because you’re worth eyes only when life
|
| passes
|
| This prominent, popular, sizzle concoction of gullible followers
|
| Some of us never wanted to be popular
|
| Just to be low-key and fucking anonymous
|
| Falser than comets or rockets in (?)
|
| Taking astronomous, breaking astrologists
|
| The archielogist the wooden scholarship |