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holy see - emperor lyrics

we got some sh_t to address

you tryna be tall but can’t stand from your kneel
you tryna bring tears but don’t know how to feel
when you turn off the lights do you still see my face?
when you checking my page do you wait and brace?
when you k!lling your own name do you keep your pace?
the way you sh_tting on the art, you leave no sp_ce
you treating this game like a fair arms race
but you starting with a stick, and i’m starting with mace
and you fitting in your pocket your whole fanbase
and you taking me to court but you copying the case
these lines that i’m reading, find a bot with talent
next timе you feel angry, b_tch i would stay silent
the most work you did was the copy and thе paste
and you thought a little bit, but your thought was a waste
so you looked at what was trending, and you saw it was a war
and you took it right here, to your own front door
“oh, kenny took a sh_t? let me take one too
i’ll put his d_ck in my mouth when the other one’s through”

you just a little boy who’s tryna go big
tryna be k_dot has you sweating like a pig
there’s two steps, b_tch, one take off the wig
and turn off gpt, no_one f_cks with that rig
are you thinking of me now, with my ring and my eyes?
or are you thinking of yourself, with your sh_t f_cking lies?
or are you thinking of your mama, and the way that she cries?
or the prophecy i wrote, and called he dies?
f_cking city kid thinks the park was the ghetto
rapping here as if your speech don’t echo
copying a butch but your voice falsetto
lying like a b_tch that i was a (what?)
the realist thing about you is the first word of your name
i was clearing out the b_tches ‘fore your daddy’d even came
was pushing way the cameras ‘fore you spelt the word fame
was polishing the g_phone ‘fore you smelt your first flame

you rap like the dealer is thwarting
my jaw cut the sh_t that you snorting
day one you the one i supporting
don’t go ‘round that story contorting
i saved you from c_nts that extorting
f_ck the bullsh_t that you be purporting
this whole deal i suggest you aborting
‘fore violence to your house importing
you lied when the journalists asked
whose music it was you first gassed
you lied when the fans begged and pleaded
to get sh_t on me that ain’t been conceited
you lied when you said you wrote sh_t
the ai invented your bit
you lied when you said you could win
i’ll play you like that first violin
when i met you you were a lost star
your whole career i foster
when you meet me get on the roster
when you finding beats how much it cost ya?
f_ck fallen angels you never flew
my only mistake was believing you
every night i regret the stain that you are
a sh_t ass rapper thinking he’s k lamar
the realist thing about you is the first word of your name
i was clearing out the b_tches ‘fore your daddy’d even came
was pushing way the cameras ‘fore you spelt the word fame
was polishing the g_phone ‘fore you smelt your first flame

you opened your pen pad, thought for a bit
how to k!ll this man and still not admit
you started a fire and decided to spit
blame me for the rest, when it’s you that lit
let’s speak on some truth if you wanna go there
so used to the lies, you prolly ask “where?”
take out the carpet, say a whole prayer
and don’t plead like a f_ckwit that you’re unaware
i won’t touch your fam’ly though you threatened mine
won’t speak on your mother, i do have a spine
won’t speak on your brother, his past is all fine
but your father, big realist, that man is a swine
the housing he owns pays like a b_tch
rooms that he rents no better than ditch
the lights in his places don’t have a switch
and while it all happens the man is enriched
the people he exploits are low of the low
the poor, the lonely, the scum of skid row
the place that he house them’s almost death row
but you know it best: f_ck all for that dough
i heard it from you b_tch, the way that you brag
“this poor single mother in mud i just dragged”
she had not a dollar, had holes in her bag
left her in the cold, and went for the f_g
the realist thing about you is the first word of your name
i was clearing out the b_tches ‘fore your daddy’d even came
was pushing way the cameras ‘fore you spelt the word fame
was polishing the g_phone ‘fore you smelt your first flame
at least you still pay tax (you don’t?)
at least you only say facts (you don’t?)
at least you don’t entertain rats (hold up)
at least you ain’t targeting f_gs (what?)
your mother did not raise a wh0re, ho
your fans ain’t wanting a bore, ho
the loser ain’t gotta be sore, ho
i suggest on that you swore, ho
avert your girl from this gore, ho
what you pay her? make it more, ho
new jobs i suggest you explore, ho
one nil, you keeping score, ho?
b_tch i might just k!ll this game
b_tch i might just end your fame
b_tch i might just turn you tame
b_tch i might just clear your name
point is b_tch i run this arena
point is b_tch your sh_t i’m creator
point is b_tch you were never a competitor
point is b_tch they call me emperor

(hold on)
(thought i was done, f_ckass?)
you’re scum of the earth, i don’t take that back
you harming the culture, lyrics all tack
you crawling on by, you way out of wack
you know you fell off, so me you attack
the son of a c_nt, a good friend of satan
thinking of fraud has you m_st_rbatin’
line up those racks, a pound they be weighin’
look at yourself, that posture not straightened
they stayin’ away like you got the plague
when you hit 10 listeners i’ll buy you a cake
i’ll light those candles and they’ll spell out fake
those numbers of yours, so f_cking baked
you w_nk to the tears of your audience member’s
i’ll give you advice, calm down your tempers
before you make music, see off your tremors
you ain’t making fire, you barely make embers
you making me fill in the time between classics
three in the vault, make ‘em automatic
for you the music’s fully pragmatic
a hit’s make or break, for me it’s just practice
get back to your youtube, find a new beat
“i k!lled holysee with some stolen heat”
you probably won’t even accept your defeat
i promise it’s there, and f_ck it tastes sweet
you thought you did sh_t, your ankles you’ve rolled
the way that you’ve lost’s a sight to behold
beyoncé’s on call, put on her hold
i’m too busy pushing you out the fold

- holy see lyrics

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