Three Wise Men | O.C.D Cypher #2

[Verse 1: Oswin Benjamin Prod. Trox]

Cannot see the finish line to this Aryan race I'm running from

Hollow causes from empty leaders

Who studied them laws of manipulation

Deceiving people lost in the season

[?] discontentment

Some are a failure to father their self-esteem

Springing malice forward 'til pain submitted

I seek love and affection, but get caught in redemption

I'm the flaw and perfection

My good intention has skewed my vision of hell for heaven

Let that sit for a second

I regain from aggression

Do all I can for the insurance my flow's progressive

Okay, I'm back with it

And so I've seen that divinities are my genes

So I really do slack with it

Consciousness of a black cricket

Ventriloquist; how I'm pulling strings to a sizzle of voiceless dummies that lack wisdom; a bunch of half-christians

In love with role-playing an active victim

I'm just a vagabond off my pivot

Nothing but a travelling pilgrim, who don't believe in religion

See, I believe in building this culture of agriculture

Water down the soil of disbelief, planting millions of mustard seeds

The keys to the kingdom

With the belief that God is always on time

Order my steps, but I'll find the shoes to fit me online

I cried when I went to Portugal

The Cuban links on my arm, in exchange for like seven days

Worth of [?]

My train of thought turns styles every swipe

See, I ain't write this to outshine the last cypher

But give old heads and new niggas a good reminder

That we ain't playin' with ya

These wise men are controlling shit with no gaming system

Stay in yo lane and feelings, some races ain't made to finish

I'm from where couches and wooden floors was my mattresses

And a bag of Doritos is all I ate for dinner

So y'all lost your cotton pickin' mind if y'all don't see me

And see the hunger of 8 slaves sharing the same plate, nigga

Kendrick Lamar, Ghostface, Cyhi The Prynce, Raekwon

I love y'all, but know I need that spot

I need everyone of your fans

I need mom and pops holding hands

I need the world to see that he has God

Not that he has bars

But [?]

Give the beat business, so they see past ours

And through our scars, they can see that God's working

And even when I try to fit in, I got reminded

To be the one you gotta be that all

Preach!

[Verse 2: Chris Rivers]

Rolling dolo for the dough though

Learn to either fly, or go extinct just like a Dodo

Chasing toto, popo want to put my soul in choke-holds

So this coco butter caramel complexion is a no-no

Han Solo, flying solo with the force of [?]

I'm the best - don't gotta say it

It's implied like homeless hobos

No hoes could make my hope grow

This for my Yoko Ono

Been the shit since shitting diapers

Fighting crimes as Mojo Jojo, woah

Smoking on that Power-puff, known to hold a mountain up

Atlas balance smashes, going at it with my father's stuff

Hoping that he's proud of us

Ain't been a peach, like Bowser's crush

Surprised my eyes ain't blue or my hair turn blond when I power up

Super when I'm saying shit

Trooper when I aim from hips

Uber when I slay a bitch

Kuba when I'm slinging bricks

Cooler like I came from ships

Ruler like my name is Rick

Scuba, what you saying Chris?

Words be deep like sing with fish

Chris Angel angles, I'm magician

But the writtens known to

Strip you niggas down and carry ones like short division

Porcelain and awkward winners

Often mimicked by my victims

Horse kick ain't never ever soft like offing linen

Nigga, listen

I'm next to nothing, I'm first me forever, God

So don't ask me about my pops, Joe or Terror Squad

No disrespect

This index - in line with holy figures, yes

Work to fucking hard to keep it clean, fuck a disinfect

No Pine-Sol, no Lysol, no Ajax, no comment

Unless it's post-apocalyptic post from Nostradamus

Predict a heavenly fire

Cause for all my rhyming while my name on Insta is "dragonsandrivers"

[?]

Look

I'm just your saviour coming into appearance

Condemning who ain't coherent

Won't save them with a clearance

So ill even Koreans could hear it

They want drugs, If you trust 'em

Hit 'em with plugs like Caribbean parents

Wa'gwan

My movement is winning, my mood is so finished

This garbage ain't get so popping that they could use it for shipping

[?] pull up, so much they think it's [?]

More than pink eye when I drop if you intrude on my vision

Moving a Ruger position, my mechanics are different

Give your girl an exorcism; have her mattresses lifting

Head spinning, or shifting, if you even against the Os

Net stalk after treason, that's even against the odds

And uh

"This ain't Superman or Christopher Reeve

This is Porter fucking around, this how Christopher reads

Just emulating with my statements, straight from Brooklyn I write."

Impersonating angry Os with Chris' teeth stuck in the mic

UH!

[Interlude: Oswin Benjamin, Chris Rivers, Denzil Porter]

What the fuck ?

This nigga talk-

I got it, I got it, I got it

You got it ?

I got it

You got it ?

Fuck y'all niggas

Yo, hold this shit, hold this shit

Hold up

Chris

[Verse 4: Oswin Benjamin, (Denzil Porter)]

That was mean, man, can't believe this kid

This Jamaican jerk think he the goat, but he' lacking the seasoning

Another incense-burning, no-sock-wearing, Guinness drinking, Really bouncing dance-hall nigga making guns with his fingers

You look like [?] 'fore his hair was knotted

Poor Denzil Porter's my Porta Potty

I'm shitting on this dark skin, nigga

Light skin squinting

Using the same salt from the cartel when the vibes went missing

Os winning, never winded

Like a cool breeze between Chris' teeth when he' whistlin'

God done sentenced this nigga' tongue to a life in prison

And with a gap like that you ain't gotta floss, nigga (No, nigga)

Like not at all, nigga (not at all!)

That separation is like a partner that got caught slipping

And when you smiling in winter, your tonsils'll get frost bitten

I'm not at all finished, wait

No sus' rebuttals either, Chris, your mouth's got a pause in it

Your custom sippy straws a quarter thick

You took a sip out of a gallon of water and drank all of it

And he recorded it

Nah, I'm just kidding with you

But if your mouth was set up like a 2-3 zone

Would've had no problem splitting the middle

See I'm the one, black magic all in this son

And y'all niggas can't fuck with son

Here's a little pun for Little Pun

No matter how big you get, or how BIG you get

You'll never hold the weight to get up out your father's shadow

Yeah, that's how you handle bars pedalling through a bar battle

Little stinking nigga, you mad cause I showed what everyone else was thinking, nigga!

[Verse 5: Chris Rivers, (Oswin Benjamin)]

I want Oswin's beat, I want Oswin's beat!

Oswin the only man that need panoramic cameras on cat scans

You get it?

'Cause his fore.. I mean, his twelve head is next to the Gods

Young Whoopi need to edit this off

You look like someone dropped and shitted out a predator doll

I know you heard of restraints

One more inch of circumference might just have murdered your neck

Wait..

Is that a jersey or dress?

I know you're masking your masculinity

But mask ain't the remedy

I don't think they make masks for 7 jeeps

How you holding up nigga?

You literally got the whole world on your shoulders, my nigga

I know you moving mountains

'Cause you were born a boulder, my nigga

Just be bolder, my nigga

I thought I told you, my nigga

And Denzil, you mad frail

Punch your chest and make your shoulders touch (Ha!)

Rap's your fall back

You had a bachelors in Golden Krust (Ha!)

Your career is like your eyelids, bro

It just ain't holding up

Holding up fonta leaves for light bulbs for heat

You smoke enough, oh

Young Flame, I ain't finished yet (Wooo)

My last line is like your hairdo, partner, I just ain't pick it yet (I just ain't pick it yet)

And I can save a lot in 15 minutes or less

You GEICO lizard-looking, chicken-[?]-cooking, in-the-blizzard-shooking, could-fit-the-fish-smell and fish-and-chips-boiling fake Jamaican

'Cause your accent, just ain't as great as this set is

Yo, Os!

If your forehead was a state It'd be Texas

Now check it

Denzil Washington, nah

Chris Rock is your dad

You just wanna be a Freda Gatz look-a-like

Like so bad

It's so sad

But fuck it, we living

These teeth jokes are weak pokes, dawg

But fuck it, let's hear it

It's Rivers!

[Verse 6: Denzil Porter (Oswin Benjamin & Chris Rivers)]

Uh whatever

Here we go with those jerk chicken and curry jokes

I'm coming for the chip, appreciate those curry jokes

Hurry folks, I know these are buddies, so I'll be courteous

Os can see the wind coming; why you wore that jersey dress?

Chris fighting pop bellies and he ain't even thirty yet

Os can't get what I earned, don't even have a shirt to press

Throw Rivers in his last name; cement to further depths

I keep saying Chris the best, sike

I ain't curses yet

Chris - why you skin look like dirty teeth?

Os you [?] burger beef, and then you go to D.R for surgery

On that forehead, and I bet you could think fast

And you hide behind that seashell, but your head so big I get you a king crab

But enough of that, let's go ahead and [?] it up

Go ahead and laugh it up

And realize the whole crowd is backing up

And I know you got goals, so you're running, got sick and tired

Of sitting down and your front teeth poking holes in your stomach

Yeah I'm Jamaican, so ladies I can take what I wanted

Oswin's girl I've been jamming like a face on a hundred

Left the place in the basement, with some cases of rum, and

Complaining that he growing backwards

Who press Benjamin Button?

You're always mad, motherfucker

Dag, motherfucker

That's why you're a fan of all these sad motherfuckers

Every new Drake drop - it just be touching his mood

Just make sure you wear condoms since you fuck with his views

And Rivers - notice the game, I thought this shit done changing

So ahead of my time, he's still dissing Young Flame

See what happens when shit gets to your head? It gets real

I got Oswin by the dreads and Rivers by the grill

Causing damage anytime I'm just standing, I let 'em have it

Had to challenge ourselves since no one else accept the challenge

[Outro: Oswin Benjamin, Chris Rivers, Denzil Porter]

And it's closed, nigga

It's closed like Oswin's jersey dress

Nah, nah, nah

It's closed like Chris' gap after forty years of braces, nigga

Nah, nah, nah

It's closed like- like the opposite of- of Oswin's snapback

Ay, it's closed, nigga, it's closed

Team Backpack, make some noise