(intro)

Praise

(verse)

My pencil left a burn

When I wrote this

Snacking on M-Cees

Like they're made by Hostess

What's your GOAT list?

One, me

Two, me

Three, me

Four, me

Five

If it ain't that, then it probably ain't right

Locked in

Like it's COVID

Again, most men

Are rotisseries, to my

Chicken

Marsala

Don't be silly, got

Hakuna Matata

If you write a diss to me

Then you got problems

Oppossums

Roadkill, you should stop talkin'

So awesome

Flow chill, but it's not awkward

I make it all seem easy

Peasy

When I make it, y'all gon' wanna be me

E.T.,

I'm on a different planеt, they can't read me

Thе weak

I pop out they can't stand it they get heebie

Jeebies

How many bots does it take to get rich?

Artists fought to exist

Until they lost all their wits

Drop a few hits

Music for media feeds

The media feeds

Meaningless deeds, strategically making beats

Just to please

An algorithm

They're out of rhythm

And now the system

Is watered down with drivel

M-cees, at best, are like pistols

I'm like a thousand big missiles

Vladimir putin, wrappin' up nukes in

Passion and truth, irrefutably

Lackin' in half-assin' my moves

They didn't know I could really rap

I was holding back, 'cause lettin' it loose

Like a whip after crackin'

Would split y'all in half, and

My half life is your lifespan in full

'Cause my legacy's lastin'

Yeah

(chorus)

I'm ill, I'm ill, I'm ill

The realest

I'm ill, I'm ill, I'm ill

The realest

I'm ill, I'm ill, I'm ill

The realest

I'm ill, I'm ill, I'm ill

The realest

(verse)

Recently

Declines in human decency

We all tuned to different frequencies

Divided so unevenly

Can't see what y'all don't see in me

My artistry is not recieved

And part of me wants to believe

It stems from authenticity

Or lack thereof

The industry is packed with nothin'

Masked as somethin'

Ain't that somethin'?

Luckily

I got the cure, the medication

I'm Spaceman

And this my fuckin' station

Yeah, yeah

I'm Spaceman, I'm Spaceman

(and this my fuckin' station)

Beggars can never be choosers

Y'all beggin' for facts, but get hot

When I use 'em

I don't know the difference, 'tween

Winners and losers

I just show 'em the bomb, then

I'm D.B. Cooper

And if you know, then you know

And if you don't then it's cool, sir

I'm the GOAT, that

They don't tend to

Notice

Beware, when I kick in the door

And it's open, ain't

Nobody safe

Bitch it's hopeless

Y'all smoke on my pride

And it's potent

Had to cover a smile when I wrote this

I'll own it

(chorus)

I'm ill, I'm ill, I'm ill

The realest

I'm ill, I'm ill, I'm ill

The realest

I'm ill, I'm ill, I'm ill

The realest

I'm ill, I'm ill, I'm ill

The realest