I Killed Hip Hop (part 2)

Yo, I killed hip hop, rim shot

In my purple flip flops, flex for the burbs

That's my word, I'm alfred hitchcock

It ain't the size of your boat, but if you got your shit docked

Then you're probably rappin' about your money

Get your wrist watch, tick tock

Maybe if I had it, I would do it, too

But I would rather make that

Shit that you bang at your funeral

Trashy and unusual, rugged like it's '93

I know you love it, but I love the way you keep remindin' me

Finally, this is like a breath of clean air in the ruins of a dynasty

Don't need to be scared

Listen rappers, you complete me, I could never lose you

Your emptiness inspires me entirely, it's voodoo

It's blood inside my diary, my wiring is off

Record labels should've fired me

The day I flipped the cross

Now I’m coming for your listeners

To open up their minds to what is really goin’ on

Here, let me open up the blinds

(See?) (see?) (see?)

Yeah, you’re in the same school

New grade level, class is in session

And I hope you brought

Your grade shuffle,open to today’s lesson

I watched these rappers gettin’ fatter while I starved

But I ain’t starvin’ no more, darling, I’m just watching my carbs

Everyone locking their cars like that shit’ll stop a beast

Your little ass called the jaws of life, you ain’t got the teeth

I know you’re lookin’ at my scars, it’s a hard brew to swallow

But if pain is beauty, I could be a supermodel

Hit the store, scoop a bottle

I don’t know how much you noticed

But I’m a little more vicious now

You’re licking your wounds

While I’m ripping all your stitches out

I’m listenin’ to a different tune, r.I.p. To rappers

We’ll be missin’ you, missin’ you

I don’t really listen to your shit more than twice

All that tryna be creative shit is nice

But I’m surprised to say that I don’t really feel it

And plus, I got the feelin’ that these kids want

Something with a little more feeling

(Really?) yeah, really

Now tell me, can you feel me in your bones?

Am I the spider you see crawlin’ across

The ceiling of your home when you’re alone

Tryin’ to call yourself an artist, and you mean it

But it’s hardest cause you know you ain’t as hard as jj demon

I got your beating heart inside my hand

Look at you all wide-eyed and entranced

I will bring you right back from the dead

So I can say bye-bye again, try again

Dyin’s what you wear the suit and tie for

To watch you blow your brains

Out in a car with suicide doors

Are you alive, whore?

What the fuck you alive for?

Try to survive less and die more, I’m the advisor

Don’t fuck with me, you won’t-won’t

Be cool, it’ll be me, and it won’t be you

Little me this on the little league list

You just use rap as a coping tool

Now I don’t know what you’re hoping to do

I’m an early lead broken in two

I’m doper than dope on the spoon

I’ll kill it and open a tomb

I remember when they wouldn’t even look at me

Now all the scene girls wanna throw a fuck at me

Really? You won’t know you’re dead

Until the walls start peeling

Revealing all of your fears had come true

Did I kill hip hop, or just kill you?

(Hip hop’s dead, hip hop’s not dead)

Really? You won’t know you’re dead until the walls start peeling

Revealing all of your fears had come true

Did I kill hip hop, or just kill you?

(Hip hop’s dead, hip hop’s not dead)

(Hip hop’s dead, hip hop’s not dead)

(Hip hop’s dead, hip hop’s not dead)

(Hip hop’s dead, hip hop’s not dead)

(Hip hop’s dead, hip hop’s not dead)