Kings Of The Ant Hill - Cam Groves, Spose

It’s that liquor carryin' libertarian with a fifth of whiskey

One sip is gonna make your nipples harrier

I kick the barrier, now my shit is scarier

If you don’t like a hit, dog, pistol whip a tarrier

And I’m aware of the other rappers that tear it up

But daring motherfuckers used to step into my area

And if you’re itchin' to make a stupid decision

Or wanna take it to dissin', my diction’ll take care of ya

And I bet I’m as bright as a head of lettuce is

But got it in my head that I’m ahead of my competitors

And I’ve been penning it ever since Sega Genesis

So you’re bound to benefit depending what your fetish is

Back with the fast rap just to get you cats stressing

That impressive, I should be giving a fucking rap lesson

And each bar attached with attack weapons

Grow another leg and quit your motherfucking half steppin'

Yo, our songs and our fans real

You belong in a landfill

Your career at a stand still

Nothing that we can’t kill, kings of the ant hill

You got nothing on my man’s skills

I’m so sick, I need some damn pills

I’ve been the man since «Stand Still»

Nothing that we can’t kill, kings of the ant hill

Hum-diggity drum, a hum-digga

When I was a young kid, they were calling me, «Dumb wigger!»

Now I’m back and bigger than some would figure

Hoping something cool happens, you’d think it would come quicker

I stay spitting like my tongue was a gunslinger

Punch lines thicker, mix 'em with a fifth of rum liquor

Your girl hungry and she want me to have fun with her

I could turn a nun to a sinner after one dinner

It’s a fit of rage every time I hit the stage

I’m the illest spitter that isn’t up on a Wiki page

Never spit the same, but I came to flip the game

Everything you bitches say is only gonna ricochet

Bitch, I wish you’d name someone badder

With the punchlines so big, they done rung Saturn

And the drums come fatter with the fung tung patterns

You ain’t going nowhere like a one rung ladder

Yo, our songs and our fans real

You belong in a landfill

Your career at a stand still

Nothing that we can’t kill, kings of the ant hill

You got nothing on my man’s skills

I’m so sick, I need some damn pills

I’ve been the man since «Stand Still»

Nothing that we can’t kill, kings of the ant hill

My motivation’s humiliation, my reputation

Is decimation, the preservation of a generation

These declarations my occupation, inoculation

From desolation, my estimation is I’m fucking good at rapping

I put discussion on percussion

Been conductin' this production, the destruction of your section

Yeah, I’m still the best rapper in Maine and always have been

You sold ten copies and they’re all to your dad’s friends

You’re butter-soft, you’re powder puff, you’re featherweight

I’m Helter Skelter, I’ll melt your shelter, I never wait

I just medicate, levitate and educate

And I don’t gotta sample Michael McDonald to regulate

You see me captivate a cavalcade and commandeer the cabaret

The cavalry is screaming, «Don't stop!»

I started from the bottom, now I shart it when I jot it

I’m an artist and they bought it, you can find me on top

You’re an honorable mention from a comical direction

You’re a pussy and a dick like anatomical correction

Ask Ock Cousteau 'bout my nautical collection

When I brought new flows, the phonics so perplexin'

There’s nothing eerier, steerin' fear in your area

Mirror you mysterious lyricists, P period, Dank

Kings of the ant hill called «Maine rap»

You’d have to get Wu-Tang to move here to change that

Yo, our songs and our fans real

You belong in a landfill

Your career at a stand still

Nothing that we can’t kill, kings of the ant hill

You got nothing on my man’s skills

I’m so sick, I need some damn pills

I’ve been the man since «Stand Still»

Nothing that we can’t kill, kings of the ant hill