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type tdo - fired up lyrics
[verse 1]
i submitted my songs for the eminem art of bars
didn’t get selected, took it kinda hard
no hate to em i know i’m learning to master the craft
in fact i thank him for the motivation, gave me a spark
reignited my love for lyrics
have to give myself some time waitin’ like an intermission
but i’m always illin’
writin’ even if i don’t give myself permission
cause my thoughts are always filled with vivid images, and i’m comin in
i’m hungrier than ever and i haven’t eaten
all i’m seein’
is the prey waitin’ for me to еat, like it’s thanksgiving
but the only thanks i’m giving is to those who rеally write their writtens, (yeah)
i’m lookin’ at you drake
you say that you got views
but you don’t even write your visions
and it’s right on cue
for the rap game to feel an incision
you’re more of a singer
please try battle me
you can’t handle this vigour
i’m better and bigger
in every way except pop appeal, they say that xanax is a k!ller, (embarrassing)
but i’m attila
and i’m coming to sever
cause this endeavour
is never ending, it goes on forever
and i’m fired up, like john wick with this pencil
cut the beat right now, i’m comin’ to end you
[bridge]
haha, i’m fired up
yeah, i’m fired up
[verse 2]
i warp words like a wormhole weaving two worlds
in my white shirt, i guess that truth hurts
i’ll pick_axes over your words when we break the ice, in a conversation about whose worse
only time i’m a loser, i leave bruises with this tongue_lashing, the rap abuser
don’t need no computer
as my rhymes are not compute_able
and to cain your nose a hoover, yeah
cause i’m comin’ for your top spot
the thought of battlin’ me will make your heart stop
figures like james you’d wish our bonds swapped
not convertible like a car with a hard top
i’m a marked god, you’re an avant_garde slob
verbal ak c_cked
son you so much your lyrics i won’t adopt
like a dog, i’m putting you down
yeah, leaving your career cropped
[verse 3]
i’m not a rapper, i’m a wordsmith
and every word spit in earnest is proving i’ve earnt this
i am gods gift, my rhymes; the power of a sermon
while listening to your songs is a burden
like a phone with no wi_fi or service
your seat at the table is sponsored by coercion
i’m like you but an upgraded version
because your mind split, like you’re fighting tyler durden
and i’m going crazy on the beat
never flowing lazy this is heat
unlike you i’m know when i’m tasting defeat
which is never cause i’m armed to the t__th, when you argue with me
feel your heart skip a beat
which is better than battlin’ me, i got a rhymin’ degree
i’ll never meet you halfway cause your brains decayed
playing one of my songs will cause a heatwave
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