about
A remix of Big Sean's "Control."
lyrics
I'm about nuclear warfare, bridgin' computer chipsets
Get caught in the crossfire, I don't know who I've hit yet
I got your noodle twisted, bitch, opinions fork 'em over
Been takin' oil hits until my car's a quart lower
Built tougher than a Ford motor, started as a stillborn
Recovered the identity, traits of a warlord soldier
Here to attack the masses, I'm lashin' massive mastiffs
Mowin' over these snakes that ambush in grassy pastures
Grab two faggots and smash 'em together back-to-back un-
Til they're sword-fighting at the ass with matchin' backward apples
Cackle with manic laughter when fallin' in vats of acid
These days unless a rapper's ballin', they can't pass a classic
Every effort comes up flatter than a bitch with half an assprint
Flow's cold enough to drag me from an Apache in the caps of Aspen
I hear these cats that's rappin', actin' as if Matt's a has-been
I guess they haven't heard me, bitches, the captain's back in action
I said these bitches ain't go in, the only one really flowin'
King of these barbarians, chest pumped up, my name is Conan
Subtractin' any O'Brians, pussies scratchin' without old vinyl
I'm back on more than just bullshit, attackin'; I'll hold your spinal
In a pretzel position, half these cats fret over fiction
Got their heads steady twistin' with plenty PMS holes red mistin'
I'm on my Kick-Ass superhero spitter shit, no Keri Hilson
The realest, go check your litmus, these dicks acted stiff and wilted
Sailin' on the mic manifest, misdirect your destiny
My wordplay spans entire bars, prayin' to my Frank White effigy
You tenderfoots couldn't tend to it, my callouses like a Hobbit
Avalanchin' your paths, I climbed the mountains where the sharpened rocks prick
Into your sole and heel, toes froze on some Hoth shit, some day I'll finally top it
Until then, know I'm the best if ever rhymin's the topic
More controlled than a K. Dot, Big Sean, or a Jay Elec
And every rapper on the original Kendrick listed, so check
Your fuckin' opinion, I guarantee your perception is wrong
If you think any three of them killed it compared to me or the rest on this song
If this is a pissin' contest, I'm muddyin' up the water puddles
Ya'll some Apollo kids without Ghostface; launched and then scuttled
A phantasm with a hauntin' rebuttal for any wanton for the struggle
Shatter a rappers' thesis and leave 'em to ponder the puzzle
I'll mash up your greatest track with my trash compactor composite
Watch me beat your mom durin' childhood, faggot, trapped in the closet
I'm flippin' lines, quick to put in Quicken I'm nickle-and-dimin' these fiends
Bow down to your highness strikin' a non-compliance regime
It's more than competitive drive that makes me think I'm better than
It's a major part of my daily regimen to think less of them
credits
from
Fuck Everyone,
released February 24, 2015
Instrumental Produced by: No I.D.
Written, Performed, Recorded and Produced by: M. Dyer
license