76% - Jean Grae

Ready the cops, ready the riot gear, ready the bombs

Ready the cars, fuck it ready the tank, hit the alarm

Trilogy infinity bars, I’ll spit in your mouth

Break in your house, shit on your couch, hit your kid and spouse

Survival shit homey

Driving with a corset made of dynamite sticks on me

Arm me with an army jacket with a pistol in it

I’ll just pistol whip you like a bitch, you calling me a bitch?

Your lip is busted dripping crimson on the floor honey

You see it’s all fun and games

Until you’re falling on my sword gutted to the core buddy

With a 4×4 to your jaw, assaulting your balls with a saw, and some sea salt

Loaded cannon on the other side of a seesaw

With an «If you see something, say something» sign (hee haw)

Guitar strings, and a key card with a sharpened end

Will make me carve things in ya deep scars that never mend

But never mind Jeannie right

She’s harmless calm as condom in a convents quarters

As Common as Lonnie, or women covered in islamic countries

Or conflict in congress

Or in Copenhagen commenting danke

Idiot

I’m unmitigatedly brilliant, bet again

Better go back the to beginning Fezig, Finnegan

Put in your bid again, bet Grae

Kiss the converse, Leroy

I’ll windmill bee boy all over your kinfolk

And I don’t mean breakdance

I’ll throw a hive at boy

And kick him in a windmill and then spin the damn spoke

I’m Pig Pen but swarming with half notes

Treble clefs, bass clefs, half rest as top hat

Delivery legato as fuck and not a libertine who liberally fucks

I deliberately say «fuck that»

Tongue in the second letter of vocabulary

Make it come and go whenever necessary

Yes nigga I cuffed that

Drink a big cup of Never

Bit of hilarity

If you front the flow I dare whatever ya test

I love that

Bethenny Frankel, slim chance of that shit

I’m Dr Gonzo on constant natural acid trip

My natural state is bat country

Do I want some molly?

No ma’am, Al Bundy

Marcy Darcy haircut, Daria attitude

Marty McFly Air mags, pardon the magnitude

I make references to shit I like

I really don’t care if it’s a hit on site

I’m not blackpeoplemeet

I spit on mics

Aww man I’m sorry

Is the kid alright?

All night long Lionel Richie, Vince Vaughn

And I’ll stretch my shit out like Cardiff Giant off a plane

Arcane is an innocuous descriptive of the lane

But Arkham is more accurate and smarter to claim

Wayne manner, not the house, but the same mannerisms

Played out, but without the pain of the slain parental figures

Orphan rap, endorphin rap, dolphin rape

Wait… how’d that get in there, aww too late

Orphan Black, multiple characters, same actor Jean

With a St. Patrick’s Day theme, drink

An almanac of culpable narratives, in back of me

With a quaint braggish Grae lean

Blink, and you’ll probably miss it

But I’m glad well you listened

And that the fans who get it

Whenever damn well they spread it

If it’s thin as pancetta you do could it damn better

I’m like the Whoville anthem and their mascot forget it

Imagine Bambaataa in Calcutta in 76

With a Cosby sweater on

That’s how hot I am

Then imagine Dorothy Parker in Alaska in 1926 sitting a bar

That’s how hot I am

Also

Many levels of hotness

My pineal gland is on a vacation topless

Cut me, I bleed agave.

That’s obnoxious

Why would you need to cut me just trust me, it’s a process

I could build your confidence

Also be your accomplice (laughs)

I couldn’t say that with a straight face I’m way too honest

I’ll push you in the Gowanus for nothing

I’ll punch you in the vomit button

I’m kinda like Rick Moranis but with Vigo in him (Vigo)

I’m from the land of Cry Freedom (Biko)

I probably would have fucked Mc Lovin

Yipee-ki-yay John McClane

I don’t die hard

I don’t Dylan

I’ll never die at all

I get dye jobs, for sticking up dive bars

And making the old guys lick up the whole stripper pole

And make 2 sidecars, side bars

Sidecars are delicious

So lift a cup or two, bitches

To the motherfucker who these other motherfuckers wanna do