[Verse - Holliday]

Leave the mic lit like R a t machine cover

Catastrophic when I drop these words I udder

Like swords that cut off the head off monarchs

Bolster a cutlass donning red spots

A bit ambitious with the lyrics for my own good

That’s gonna be the leading reason I'm gonna be on billboard

A bit ambitious with the lyrics for my own good

That’s gonna be the leading reason I'm gonna be on billboard

Skill too raw to completely ignore

The will that I got feeds my lions roar

The mane’s potential equals the reign of louis one four

The hair openly proclaims the falcate flamеs that soar

Stark difference from my art and his rigid rеgnant

A speaker reaching for freedom succeeding in the modern setting

I don’t need an offering arm, if one postures ill take it

Regardless, attach like a prosthetic

I will continue to prosecute an open slot for my music

Projects. Process a beaut of a catalog

Feelings subdued when I go to fuse them into a song, two steps:

Press record then allow me to snap-a

See rings you wearing, except me to kneel

But not to be kissing, I'm dismembering your fingers

And pocketing them, gonna be a clean cut, been sharpening my pen

Hard not to be optimistic with the promise that I give

Via arson I commit, this a target I can’t miss, persistent as a wasp when it’s pissed

Represent the figure of a balrog, swinging fists closed on ink leaking pens means

Inferno explosions preceding the audio’s end

Able to feel the hard texture of the beat, and with no awkwardness

Still smoothly stomping kid, flow wearing a pair of moccasins

Thirsty for bloodshed of tracks, show opposition (No Mercy)