Straight Bars Volume 1 – samsa

Wait, hold up

Let me get this J rolled up

I’ll tell you motherfuckers
What you gotta pay me for a verse
If you let me get the fucking payroll done

Y’all could offer your first born child
And I’d still bounce out like its’ girls gone wild
Style so killer that my words on bail
All my verbs in jail and my verse on trial

All about the bass, no treble
First place on the track, gold medal
Shere never get into a situation
Where he gotta choose, never lose cause the Khan don’t settle

Y’all don’t move like your bikes won’t pedal
Think you gon’ blow like your mics’ gunmetal
But that shit seem like planting a damn seed
Leavin’ it and hopin’ that it might grow petals

Think you mad cold but you tykes come gentle
Till’ you get popped like a tight blood vessel
Y’all motherfuckers really going out of style
Like some cowboy boots with the rhinestone pebbles

Line game sharp like a limestone pyramid
Y’all act hard but your rhymes don’t merit it
The facts are that your act starts played out
And you lack bars like a backyard playground
But I rap like a track star makes rounds
When I go faster than nascar greyhounds
Y’all burnouts are like racetrack flame-outs
Looking at me spit a like spacecraft came down

Y’all rusty with dumbed down bars out
Like parts found in a rundown car pound
My eight-track when it’s played back bar none
Gets the crowd revved like a Maybach start sound

I really feel like you rappers need guidance
Y’all rap ’bout the same three items
Freestyling bout’ weed, greed, violence
We don’t need these from you, we need silence

Y’all say that my tracks need a damn hook
Fuck you, why don’t y’all hacks read a damn book
Y’all about as well-read as the self-help
Shelf in a jail library cell in the backwoods

Yo, fuck the goons and dudes who confusing their
Youtube views as a proof of some movement
All they do’s interviews and reviews
But there’s too few crews just improving their music

Y’all prolly like Khan’s being cinematic
I’m prolly like nah, see, I’m really mad
I was taught to keep my head down even when I’m at it
Then I see these cats getting green like a lily pad

All these dogs got a dot com blog and a vlog
And a blah and a blah and a twitter page
It doesn’t matter how much shit you got up on the internet
Though bitch, if you all never been on stage

See, this shit’s gettin’ pretty old’
Some shitty ass kid makes a video
With a shitty rap on a track that’s forgettable
Couple days pass, see him dance on the Ellen Show
To a damn crowd with some middle aged mom’s in it,
Nearly puts me fit of rage watching it,
Like they made it cause they rappin’ to celebrities

Someone tell me though, what happened to integrity?