Untitled

(Yeah)

They ain't ready for this one...

Nah, f*** it, turn me up.

(BOOM!)

I ain't the king, I'm the architect, blueprint god in the flesh

Wrote my verses in blood, now my words live after death

These rappers is pawns, I move like a fin’ exec

Talkin' like they run the game—bitch, I put this s on my neck

Ain't no feature that could save you, ain't no label gon' claim you

Y'all be flexin’ on the ‘Gram, but in real life, who paid you?

Talkin’ all that “big boss” s***, but your masters enslave you

I could buy your whole career and still treat it like a fable

God-tier flow, make the Devil take notes

Turn a cypher to a sermon, leave the mic in white smoke

Every line a landmine, one step and you ghost

They say hip-hop need a savior? Motherf***er, I spoke

Talk money? I make it. Talk legacy? I’m that.

Talk enemies? They dead. Talk real ones? They strapped.

Ain't no crown I been chasin’, I been buildin’ my map

F*** the charts, I want statues when my vision collapse

I ain't Kendrick, I ain't Drake, I ain't Cole or ‘Ye

I’m the glitch in the system, the one they can’t imitate

Rap feel like fast food—every song the same plate

I cook five-star bars, y’all be servin' fish fillets

They pushin’ TikTok hits, I push culture and weight

Y’all be streamin’ for a penny, I could buy the whole estate

Every verse is like a Will, every album’s a case

Y’all be trendin’ for a week, I’m gettin’ studied for decades

Check my stats—no ghostwriters, no A&Rs

I got a label in my pocket, f*** a Billboard star

Platinum plaques mean nothin’ if your pen game’s scarred

Y’all be postin' f***in’ captions like you really got bars (Nah!)

Talk money? I make it. Talk legacy? I’m that.

Talk enemies? They dead. Talk real ones? They strapped.

Ain't no crown I been chasin’, I been buildin’ my map

F*** the charts, I want statues when my vision collapse

I see fear in they eyes when they hear my shit drop

Talkin’ tough in the booth, but in real life they flop

Y’all dependin’ on the hype, I just let the pen talk

When they ask who run the game, my name the f***in’ top

Bury me inside a booth, let the bassline shake

My pen sharper than your shooters, f*** a chain on my waist

I ain't rappin’ for no clout, I let the legends debate

But if we talkin’ GOAT s***, ain't no f***in’ escape

This that sht that make your idols reconsider they fate

This that “I don’t need no Grammy, I got classics in crates”

This that “turn a critic’s blog into a goddamn grave”

I could write your best verse, and still throw that s** away

Yeah, they talkin’ ‘bout who's next?

Nah, b****, I’m forever.

They playin’ checkers, I'm playin’ chess.

F*** a trend, f*** a gimmick, f*** the rest.

I BEEN that motherf***er.

(BOOM.)

(Beat fades with eerie piano keys, leaving nothing but silence and impact.)