Rubble - CES Cru, Rittz

Whatever happened to the emcee

Times done changed for the emcee

And if he rap, I know he gotta be buzzed

If you don’t know somebody who rap

You know somebody who does

It’s prob’ly one of your cousins or dude up the block

Dropped a couple of albums or moved up a notch

Swallow it up or I don’t slack on writing commence

To eating motherfuckers like Attack on Titan it’s real

I see you headed for your doom, interscope and

These lesser niggas searching for the moon in the ocean

My third eye’s open, inner vision in 3D

It’s killer city, Missouri murdering 'em on GP

So fuck 'em all with a condom and I’m a nympho

This ain’t no conversation, no common knowledge no info

I’m going in and it don’t

Matter who get offended, this shit is premeditated

So if I said it, I meant it

I dropped in just to say what up

Hip hop chuckled to itself and it created us

Laugh now but y’all dogs better rabie up

Cause on a real, ball hogs never made us much

My group precipitates skill, shade by the deal

Fools forget to play still chasing dollar bills

I’m feeling great fail if you cruising it’s a race

You hit the brakes bail if you knew what it would take

To make sales, no run up on the state sales

My face pale, made a come up on some hate mail

It’s all subtle boy, I hope you enjoy the rebuttal

Where with the trouble I just shrug when I point to the rubble

My coin stack, prepare the appointed task

They avoided the facts, I’m disappointed but back buoyant

I let him know that that soiling is rap poison

Comma for selling Belladonna I’ll tell him Ill be out

Bring it right back

There’s more and I’m a need a night cap

Emcees be bugging me I need a fly trap

I’m fly as fuck, I look at you and see a piece of white trash

That got you heated, my bad

If I can beat him scrapping, I’m a stab him, leave a white gash

They leak and he gon need a dry rag

An ice pack, an eye patch, a life raft

I drown him in a pool of blood

I’m truly underground, I write my rhymes inside of my shaft

Frame by frame I stutter the game, it’s like I seen a time lapse

And every lake is just as bad, I can’t look past the traffic jam

Test the rappers they won’t ever pass the class exam

Blazing like I lit a match and had a can of gas in hand

You make me mad on stage, I’ll backhand a bitch like afro man

Snap a wrench in half and discipline you like a kid again

We stomping basic bitches need some titties and an ass implant

Cold blooded like I’m trapped beneath an avalanche

Keep bragging 'bout your record deal, I’ll jack you 'fore you catch a fan

Bitch

You can’t be the best emcee if someone else is writing your raps