Credits
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
Lewis Morris
Songwriter:in
PRODUKTION UND TECHNIK
Dan Moffat
Aufnahmeingenieur:in
Lewis Morris
Mischtechniker:in
Lyrics
Never see it coming
Flick of the match
Can of gas, and they're running
When I said I spit flames
They thought I was bluffing
Or it was a metaphor
Got time on my side
And, I'm ready for the war
My modus operandi
Never let trophies or
Recognition be the guide
That's how they dull your sword
They'll say it's not as strong
as a motherfuckin pen
Not knowing they're the same
They deny the power of
This fuckin ink yet again
They never shoulda let me get some
What a shame.
Now, they'll never shut me up
Unless they put me in a grave
Even then, I'll be in heaven
Penning epics in the rain
You gon feel this shit, nigga
That's a promise I don't break
Irresponsible with this shit
A toddler with a grenade
So, trust that if you fly wrong
There ain't no fuckin bygones
Beef gets topped off
With a tiny pinch of Sazon
Who I swing the bat on
Louisville Slugger gets its splat on
Shit'll knock like the beats I rap on
Have your life flashing
Like I at age 5
Choking on a marble the size of a quarter
The why as to how I survived
Or the fact I'm still alive
Wouldn't be the last time I faced
Less than stellar odds
Of making it out with a pulse.
It can only be God
Keeping me around
Past my expiration date
NAH
It's a Fiasco
Witness it, or get smacked
Go tell your fuckin homies that
Lewis Morris is back
Been lamping up in the lab
Setting MPCs ablaze
Hold your Spotify for ransom
How dare you forget my name
Pandemic age insured
That the audience in my brain
Would often be unimpressed
It's caustic, living this way
With two voices inside of me
That knows that I'm the illest
And one of which is too afraid to admit it
Cuz confidence is scary
Confidence poses risks
Believe in yourself so hard
Hoping the world notices it
In the blink of eye
You are washed
You are fat
And you're tired
And you wish you could go back
When you were easily inspired
That's legit the only shit
I'll ever miss about my 20's
Well, that and being skinny
I'm tired of fucking dimming my soul.
Cut the lights on
Make sure the fuckin mic's on
Tha Illest is in the fuckin building
BANG
Writer(s): Lewis Morris
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