[Verse 1: Essence]

PDank Cypher number two

I, I never left you, never turned my back

Kept you when I met you, respect you, there ain’t no turning back

I burn the map and keep on trekking on my own trail

I’m sweating but I won’t fail, these records come with low sales

My soul prevails, you can hear it into China

I’m that lyrical messiah, throwing spears with a vagina

Appearing with us, it’s spirits building pyramids inside you

That feeling’s when I’m rhyming with no heaters when I pull back

The lone lady plus the leader of the wolf pack

My flow crazy, man, I’m ether and your pulse flat

Go and don’t debate me, I’m rabies mixed with a Hulk smash

Then fall back, pull back, keep your bars low

My flow is automatics out the window when the car slows

Let the scars show, tell me what to do with it

You know we been a movement, we just getting to the root of it

[Verse 2: Spose]

PDank Cypher number two, ayup

Yo, yo, yo

Yo, I bloviated less, but the Associated Press

Knows I got Susan Collins giving dome and brain and neck

Bro, I been on; LL Bean on the accelerator

Then I hit the J like Solange in the elevator

And what I’m spitting is the juxtaposition

Of what you want to hear, plus what you don’t want to see written

And every scripture I’ve given had a nice fucking balance

I been cold off the dome like the ice bucket challenge

I’m hungry, I’m needing a belt

It’s Peter, your leader, from Wells

Still speaking the truth for the people who too busy working to speak it themselves

Still reaching my hand in the gutter and then I been pulling them out of the ditch

Still repping for everyone struggling just to get food in the mouth of their kids

You maniacs tentative, shady-ass gentlemen

My lady’s at the settlement when Brady pass to Edelman

Sipping on a Bissell or a trickle from the Netherlands

Hunger of a rookie with the wisdom of a veteran

While you’re dismissing all the wishes that you had in mind

You spent too long lamping and the genie from Aladdin died

[Verse 3: Jay Caron]

I’m a number that gets called when the squad needs buckets

I throw caution to the wind, my attitude like “fuck it”

See, I done worked too many hours just to do this for the love of it

Been thirty-three-plus years since I did landed from the mothership

Cats be like, “I always knew that Jay was on some other shit”

With talent off the hinges, middle fingers to the government

I’ll take the weight and carry it, my style, I’ll vary it

I’m royal, cruising through the shows in chrome custom chariots

The rhyme inventor with a temper, don’t be flaring it

My fuse is short, I rap for sport, the people stop to stare at it

Don’t give a shit what critics say, my vocal cords get ricocheted

Off the walls and into ears while dancing like a kid in play

I swing away when at the plate, a bastard who procrastinates

Laid up on the couch, just sitting naked while I’m half-awake

I’m passionate about my rapping so I do it often

Bury me at sea dressed as a captain when I’m in the coffin

So count your losses as the season’s ending

‘Cause solo stats don’t mean nothing if your team ain’t winning

[Verse 4: Mike B]

Mighty Mike B, Ock Cousteau

Yo, Mike B on beats is magic

Peace to the peeps I rap with

It’s PDank, and all these other cats need to practice

The beast is back, Mike, I’ve earned the right to boast

Rising to the heights of clouds at night, throwing lightning bolts

I strike a pose while they fashioning my trophies

And these rappers that I’m bashing all are bragging that they know me

Their fans all want to clone me

Phone me? I won’t answer it

I’m busy eating sandwiches, smoking up on my cancer stick

Give me my chance to spit, torture shit in ritual

Rewards are looking handsome like a portrait of my physical

Slap it on some currency, politicians heard of me

Got a call from Barack, he want to talk every emergency

But fuck it, I got a plot to get my peace

Fake my death and then return after my posthumous release

Drinking vodka on the beach, writing nautical songs

Blow you out the water like sailing in tropical storms

Fuck it, it’s on— Ock Cousteau, we both Aquamen

PDank in the mint so I can sponsor up a proper jam

Damn

[Verse 5: Cam Groves]

Yo, I’d rather make you crack up than act tough

And write the stuff to make people turn the track up

And all the rhymes that I hack up, got ‘em stacked up

You could pack ‘em in the back of a Mack truck

All you cats is a pack of wack duds

You rappers getting passed up like fat sluts

Grab my nuts when I walk by

Focused on my mission with the vision of a hawk’s eye

We need division like apartheid

‘Cause I’m better with the bars and more driven than a par five

I’m not hard, but I’ll hit you with the rawhide

From where you’re sitting, my position is a far cry

You’s a bitch and you should listen to a smart guy

Use a little bit of wisdom, play your cards wise

Yo, I’m throwing down and I’m calling your bluff

And when it comes to dedication, man, a lot of you suck

Not in it for the bucks, not hollow as fuck

Eat a dick, swallow a nut to follow it up

Bitch

[Verse 6: Shane Reis]

Uh, look

I’m underrated, I’m not the one who’s saying it

You can see it like the shape of a hand holding a bayonet

It’s Mr. “Do A Show Even If They Underpay”

Because a little makes a lot, and I’m nutty on the stage

But there’s other fish to fry, I’m just letting out the lines

And you roll up in the reel with a short amount of time

You be rolling trees while you riding on the pond

And I’m surprised that I can see you while rappelling from the climb

This shit’s braided in me like a rope lay be

Rise with the tide, but your neck’s not where my throat may be

You want a shot at me, I’m like, okay, see

You’re like somebody from Seattle repping OKC

See, I’m fresh off the top like I copped a new fitted

And I’m only indigo like my flow’s got a blue finish

Your post on the totem’s like hugging the floor

They want that raw joint to buck to, I’m loving the score

See, I got that one-two, I call it Russell Amore(?)

But if you’re getting out-hustled, then what you hustling for?

Reis