Off My Chest - Knox Hill

Paranormal activity, active with the actions in my brain

Actively I’m tracking apparitions in my veins

Check my swing, ghost writers, I’m a lefty

Y’all brag about your flow, I’m ghost riding on a jet ski

Don’t test me

Switch hitter Mickey Mantle in his prime in the Bronx

Dropping bomb after bomb like B-29 on a Nagasaki dawn

No tattoos, I bare arms

Spill your Sake on these bars

The ARs like Tamagotchi

Hip strapped go Kawasaki

Spin your wheel, that’s Yamasaki

Do the math, I’m Fibonacci

You zeroes, I’m the one

One trigger, two bullets, three millimeters

Five bullies laid dead

That means two I snap with a strap

That’s no cap

I don’t really do it for you keyboard kids

Your typ’s to type rap

When I rap, that’s how I live

I was raisd in PG

If you don’t know it, look it up

Some parental guidance needed with the cracks cooking up

Killers, victims, drug dealers in the cut

I remember girls getting shot when they was pregnant

I remember bodies at the mall where I would check in

I remember watching dawgs thrown in jail for weapons

And they ain’t snitching (They ain’t snitching)

So my bad, if I don’t really fit with this YouTube drug

Yeah, your boys got some views and now it’s you two tall

Box 'em in, I got a chin, but I don’t usually jaw

Masturbating motherfuckers, man

You do y’all

But y’all see skin tone and Em clone

With a bent nose, hoes bent

I bend flows in a Bentley beam

And that’s just how success goes (Goes)

Hip-hop is what raised me

Black people saved me

But say he’s a racist, he hates it

He’s playing a stage and a face for the plays

But the same shit you say is the same shit you hate

And if you say it enough, it becomes what you ain’t

And it stains on your brain every day

Do you result in the same things you fought against

Predicting insecurities on me and my

I been living in your head without fees

And picture breakdowns without me

In an age where too many die

I’m keeping lyricism alive

The lyrically inclined have a steep climb

But we keep trying

Fishing rappers in a creek

Till we hit that mainstream and finally shift tides

I’m holding services, it’s Knox

You know he would spit at your funeral

I cut you low, G

Don’t open cask- it’s the

Return of the be murderer

Earning the cash that I’ll burn it all

I’m sending him any winners

I’m shivering

I’m wishing for a bigger dinner

Sick of all this saying, «Get the bigger picture»

Portrait of a giver, who was lost, now is winning

Pass your plate, I fork you with it

What you bakin', pork you with it

Scorch you with it

Going at him for your ribs

Now I’m quartering you digs

Call it portrait of a bitch (Shot)

Till you walk a mile in my shoes

I cut your NF’ing legs, paid my dues

Most of the dudes ain’t gotta clue what I been through

So listen here, this the type of soul you put a pen through

I just put the pen to my painted ink stains when I’m blown

I don’t do this for the fame

Man I write this shit in love

And when I do run outta lead

I’ma right this shit in blood

And kill 'em all

Word to Flam

I got this off of my chest

So get the message while I DM

Man, it’s all love to the X

Rest in piece

Man, fuck this