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the palmer squares - city starz contest entry lyrics
[verse 1: ac-mental]
i’m a dreamer that never sleeps
speaker on stellar beats
and sharper than a needle so tell your peeps
i stomp emcees out with metal cleats
eat ’em like cheddar cheese
so checka-check out, check out our melodies
they’re what you call astounding
and sometimes i feel like hip hop is all around me
so i respect my environment like saint francis
i’ve never been the type of cat afraid to take chances so
you better pray like a mantis
i’m great with semantics
i’ll make you go ape sh-t, bananas, berserk
an average jerk with a glance and a smirk
that’ll make you put your cameras to work
i lurk in the shadows like a peeping tom
we the bomb, they shoulda dropped this f-ckin’ verse on vietnam
it’s explosive-bang-boom, i ain’t never been to the moon
but i’m the next closest thing to a star
and i’m naughty if you didn’t know
these ordinary dogs rock the mic on some give-and-go
just f-ckin’ with the audio and visual
but feel like charlie bucket when he brought the golden ticket home
i’m flyin’ higher than a tree sparrow
and i’ve been known to get it goin’ like a green arrow
so let’s go y’all, all the way to the top
city starz and matty b, y’all just ain’t got a shot
we switch it up like this
yup, we switch it up like this
[verse 2: terminal knowledge]
yo, yo, the beat is occupied
your screen is a front porch
and i’m just laid back, sippin’ rock and rye and swattin’ flies
so chop some limes, i might spark the trees
cough and wheeze while i cross the t’s and dot the i’s
the bottom line is that i’m not about the dollar sign
but i’ll compromise as long as we can stop the lies
on the rise and the game is on some mise-en-scène brah
you see me in the nissan sentra, baby hop inside
so i could drop the proper rhymes
hip hop is dyin’ and i’ll show you where the problem lies
these cats rappin’ without the mind, body, and soul
and you can’t count on these folks cause they out on a stroll
where the f-ck did my economy go?
an emcee that say he stack papes is probably broke
an emcee that’s makin’ fat tapes is probably dope
and your chain gang is probably rope
so i’mma cut right through it with the fluentness
we do it wicked
the buddha twisted and now i’m lifted kickin’ stupid sh-t
in hip hop’s book i’ll be the last page
joinin’ a cascade of starz in this rap trade
like jack spade i’m gonna get you suckah
choose a spot on the ground for me to stick you under
i never chose to be a dope emcee
i chose to vocally hold the key with my spoken poetry
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